vinylfanatics.com

**Keep It Hid**
★★★★☆

In the summer of 2008, while The Black Keys were still grinding it out in sweaty clubs and dive bars, Dan Auerbach found himself with an itch that his powerhouse duo couldn't quite scratch. The Akron bluesman had been stockpiling songs that felt too intimate, too personal for the full-throttle assault he and Patrick Carney had perfected. What emerged from this creative restlessness was "Keep It Hid," a gorgeous, ramshackle collection that revealed the tender underbelly of one of America's most vital rock partnerships.

Recorded largely in Auerbach's own Akron Analog studio, "Keep It Hid" feels like stumbling into a late-night session where the bourbon's flowing and the tape's rolling. This is bedroom soul for the rust belt generation – a hazy, hypnotic journey through country blues, vintage R&B, and psychedelic folk that sounds like it was beamed in from some parallel universe where Stax Records set up shop in Ohio's industrial heartland.

The album opens with the title track's deceptively simple guitar figure, Auerbach's voice floating over the mix like smoke from a dying cigarette. It's immediately clear this isn't Black Keys territory – where that band deals in sledgehammer subtlety, "Keep It Hid" whispers sweet nothings through a fuzzed-out amplifier. The production, handled by Auerbach himself, wraps everything in a warm, analog blanket that makes even the most melancholy moments feel like a comforting embrace.

"Trouble Weighs a Ton" emerges as the album's emotional centerpiece, a devastating piece of heartbreak blues that showcases Auerbach's often-overlooked skills as a vocalist. His voice cracks and soars with genuine vulnerability, supported by a arrangement so sparse you can practically hear the studio's wood paneling creaking. It's the sound of 3 AM confessions and empty whiskey bottles, delivered with the kind of raw honesty that major labels spend millions trying to manufacture.

The infectious groove of "Heartbroken, In Disrepair" proves Auerbach's solo work isn't all midnight melancholy. Built around a hypnotic bass line and punctuated by stabs of vintage organ, it's a masterclass in restraint – every element given space to breathe in the mix. Meanwhile, "My Last Mistake" channels the ghost of early Motown through Auerbach's distinctly Midwestern lens, complete with handclaps that sound like they were recorded in someone's kitchen.

Perhaps most impressive is how cohesive "Keep It Hid" feels despite its genre-hopping tendencies. Whether he's channeling Skip James on the haunting "Goin' Home" or nodding to The Band's rustic Americana on "Real Desire," Auerbach's distinctive guitar tone and world-weary vocals tie everything together. The man clearly spent his youth absorbing every piece of American roots music he could get his hands on, and "Keep It Hid" feels like his personal jukebox come to life.

The album's lo-fi aesthetic isn't just stylistic posturing – it serves the songs. The slight tape hiss and analog warmth make these intimate compositions feel even more personal, like private demos accidentally released to the world. When Auerbach's guitar breaks into the soaring solo on "Because I Should," the slight distortion and compression make it hit harder than any pristine digital recording could manage.

"Street Walkin'" closes the album with a swaggering strut that hints at the blues-rock territory Auerbach would continue exploring in his later solo work, but even here, the approach remains refreshingly understated. It's a confident finale that leaves you wanting more – always the mark of a successful album.

In the years since its release, "Keep It Hid" has aged remarkably well. While The Black Keys went on to conquer arenas and win Grammys, this solo debut remains a fascinating glimpse into Auerbach's artistic DNA. It predicted the roots music revival that would dominate the following decade, while proving that sometimes the most powerful statements are delivered in whispers rather than screams.

"Keep It Hid" stands as proof that Dan Auerbach is far more than just half of a great rock duo. It's a deeply personal statement from an artist unafraid to show his softer side, wrapped in production