(June 13, 2005) — In a day and age where static barren garage rock, whiny vocals, and monotonous power chords rule the music scene, the Black Keys are very much so, a breath of fresh air for all the blues roots rock kids the music industry has refused to cater to. Although consisting only of a drummer and guitarist/vocalist, the Keys are still, nevertheless, a powerful force in the underground music scene and a last stand in the proud legacy of American Rock and Roll. With their third release Rubber Factory , guitarist Dan Auerbach and drummer Patrick Carney have reconnected the synapses of rock roots, delta blues, and flower generation garage, and meshed it all into a refreshing modern vibe, expanding off their two previous albums, The Big Come Up and Thickfreakness. The result is a blend of the finest elements of rock; stripped down, dirty, ferocious, and aggressive. Enough to make the Robert Johnson and the old blues cats proud. Rubber Factory is definitely a departure from the 12-part blues the Keys stuck to as heard on The Big Come Up , but it only goes to show that change is not at all a bad thing. The album is a hard contrast between their roots in muddy delta blues, and ventures into new musical facets, such as Auerbach’s delving into lap steel guitar on “The Lengths”, and the cover of The Kink’s “Act Nice and Gentle” which the Keys give their signature swing, and old time barroom blues bite, a great leap from The Kink’s original jangle, and poppy garage twang. Although the Keys may have established themselves in wider songwriting and diversity, they still hold their status as modern kings of blues, not forgetting where they come from with songs like “Stack Shot Billy” and “Aeroplane Blues”, which they play with all the best of blues hawk stylistics, gritty, groovy, and gnarly. Which also graces Rubber Factory is the Key’s first single, “10 AM Automatic”, which is easily one of the most memorable and catchiest on the album. Carney drives the rhythm with heavy yet syncopated stomping and pounding while Auerbach lays down tastefully distorted three-chord guitar and croons in the very best of blues cat fashion. Single handedly, it is the Key’s most accurate profile: minimalist, dirty, but awesomely bad-ass. Though the Akron, Ohio born and raised Black Keys still remain a mysterious and unknown force in the narrow future of the music industry, Rubber Factory brings hope to the many, and will probably stand a great extension of the genuine rock and roll which went down in flames somewhere around the mid-70s. It is the cementing of the Black Keys in artistic ingenuity, a new ground covered without the sonic advantages of a bassist, and also a beacon for hope that perhaps the American rock will one day return back its bare and proud heritage.