LEOPOLD AND HIS FICTION Leopold and His Fiction
(Native Fiction Records; 2006)
Leopold and his Fiction, the eponymous debut of a San Francisco rock and roll band, starts off right with some Rivers Cuomo feedback that lets you know how this ride is going to be. The record kicks in with “She Ain’t Got Time, ” a raunchy, distorted number that eases you in to an aesthetic founded solidly in the Levon Helm school of American music, but with some Marc Bolan T-rex grime thrown in for good measure. The boys of Leopold and His Fiction keep that vibe (earthy, dirty, and simple) going throughout the record by employing megaphone-style vocals and gnarled guitar licks that sound just that perfect amount out of tune in songs like “Go On And Have My Way” and “Deep Alleyway Blues.”
While LAHF is technically a two-piece band they’re not afraid to use overdubs or extra instruments to fill out the sound, and guitarist/vocalist Daniel Toccalino plays bass and lead guitar over the majority of their songs. This just means that their sound is bigger than their description implies, and that calling them a duo is sort of misleading.
The natural comparison will be to those early White Stripes records, as any band that only lists guitar and drums on their roster gets inevitably compared to them. But Leopold and his Fiction seem to skip over the angsty, angry, punk-rock shading of Jack White and instead lunge at something more suavely sexual. They take an easygoing, relaxed approach to wooing your ears, and the result seems more universal. While Jack and Meg were locked in their little room, LAHF have been on the back porch, breathing in the heat and soaking up the sun.
Daniel Toccalino and Ben Cook are playing free and loose, as if improvising for some friends, and you know when the set is done the drinking and reminiscing will commence.
The natural comparison will be to those early White Stripes records, as any band that only lists guitar and drums on their roster gets inevitably compared to them. But Leopold and his Fiction seem to skip over the angsty, angry, punk-rock shading of Jack White and instead lunge at something more suavely sexual. They take an easygoing, relaxed approach to wooing your ears, and the result seems more universal. While Jack and Meg were locked in their little room, LAHF have been on the back porch, breathing in the heat and soaking up the sun.