No Rain, No Flowers (Yet): A Pre-Release Review by a Lifelong Fan of The Black Keys

The Black Keys at Springwater from the “Little Black Submarines” music video.

As I remember it, I first heard The Black Keys in 2006, Magic Potion, track one, “Your Touch.” That guitar tone hit like a hot nail to the heart.

As a Midwest guitar player raised on Chicago blues, this wasn’t just a cool sound; it was permission. It told me I didn’t have to be slick, flashy, or overproduced. It told me there was beauty in dirt. It told me that my sound, my instincts, the years I’d spent sweating out licks in basements and bars mattered.

They weren’t trying to be innovators. They were just playing the blues. Loud. Loose. And real. And suddenly, that felt like enough. That felt like truth.

From that moment on, they weren’t just a band I listened to. They were a band I chased.

When Attack & Release came out, it felt like a revelation. Bigger sound, but still grounded in grit. It wasn’t just another great record. It was a blueprint that I’ve followed ever since. That was when I knew I’d be listening to these guys for the rest of my life.

When I saw them at The Riviera in Chicago in 2008, I still remember the giant tire behind them. The Goodyear tire logo swapped out for “The Black Keys.” The sweat, the stomp, the swagger — it was primal. It made me believe that rock and roll wasn’t dying, it was just hanging out in Akron for a bit.

And then came Brothers. The balance of grit and groove, seduction and scuff. When I saw them headline Summerfest (Milwaukee, WI) in 2011, with my 11-year-old son and 13-year-old daughter by my side, that night rewired something in all of us. My son wore his “The Black Keys, Akron, OH” tee four days a week for three years. My daughter still talks about that night like it was magic — how Cage the Elephant opened, then Florence + The Machine, all building up to The Black Keys! We didn’t just see a show. We saw what music could do.

Years later, while on tour with my own band, we rolled into Nashville and checked into a little hotel called The Dive. After our show, we came back sweaty and exhausted, only to find a line stretching out the door and around the block. Dan Auerbach was doing a DJ set in the bar.

We skipped the line. The doorman waved us in. We walked right through the crowd, guitar cases held high above our heads like trophies, weaving past people dancing with confused stares. Dan glanced up as we passed him on the way to our room, just a flicker, and gave us that look like, “Who the hell are these two?”

We danced until 3 AM. It was a fantastic night. My wife still swears Dan wrote “Wild Child” about watching her dance that night.

That’s what The Black Keys meant to me. To us. To the people around me that I love. Still do.

And now here we are at album thirteen: No Rain, No Flowers.

Only five tracks have been released so far, but they tell a story. One I’m still trying to decide how I feel about.

The Trouble With a Great Formula

One thing I’ve always admired about Dan and Pat: they write simple songs. Direct. Uncluttered. And when it works, it really works. That’s not easy. Try writing a song that says something true in ten words and three chords. It’s a lot harder than hiding behind metaphor and fuzz pedals.

“Lonely Boy” is a banger because it’s simple and impossibly effective. “Tighten Up” grooves without trying. “Howlin’ for You” is dumb on paper and brilliant in practice. “Little Black Submarines” builds like a sermon in a smoky bar.

But when repeated too many times, that formula can turn magic into muscle memory. And that’s where No Rain, No Flowers starts to wobble.

This isn’t a band in decline. But some of these new tracks feel like a band playing it safe. A little too clean. A little too comfortable. Lyrics that could belong to any song. Hooks are built to float, not punch.

There’s still blues flavor here, but where’s the heat? And The Black Keys without heat? That’s beige. And beige doesn’t make you feel anything.

Track-by-Track Breakdown (So Far)

1. “No Rain, No Flowers”

The title track sets the tone sonically. And that tone is clean. Really clean. The synths are high in the mix, the groove is mellow, and the vocal delivery is gentle. This isn’t grit and grime. It’s sunset pop. The kind of track that’s clearly designed to sit nicely between playlists on Spotify — and it probably will.

Lyrically, it’s all forward-facing resilience:

“No rain, no flowers / More pain, more power”

[embed]No Rain, No Flowers. The Black Keys

A comforting message, sure, but one that plays more like merch copy than gut truth. And that’s the issue. It’s a nice sentiment dressed up in nice production. Nothing bites. Nothing breaks. Nothing really aches.

Even when a line like:

“There’s evil people in this world / Live long enough and you will be burned”

tries to go dark, the song pulls it back into a warm hug.

It’s fine. It’s safe. But it’s not why I put on The Black Keys.

2. “The Night Before”

Sonically, this one has a little bounce, mid-tempo groove, cool fuzz bass, and tight drums. There’s a little swagger here; the instrumental layers work well enough. But there’s also a familiarity that borders on generic. It sounds like it was assembled from preset moods: Retro Pop Rock, Radio-Friendly Nostalgia, Add Fuzz Bass.

The lyrics? Casual. Breezy. Maybe a little too breezy.

“We’ll always have the night before / There’s no place like the night before”

That’s not a bad line — but it doesn’t do anything either. It sits there. It hums. It blends into the wallpaper.

There’s a great moment with:

“She got a room at the end of the hall / With a neon sign hanging on her wall”

That line has teeth. It feels cinematic, but the song never unpacks it, never leans into it. It’s a flash of something dirtier, more interesting, and then we’re back to the chorus.

It’s musically competent and lyrically light. It grooves, but it doesn’t haunt.

3. “Babygirl”

Here’s where things start to feel alive.

Right off the bat, the piano steps forward, not something you usually hear leading a Black Keys track. But it works. It’s playful. Confident. Dan and Pat sound like they’re having fun here, and that energy carries.

The rhythm is clean but bouncy, with just enough edge to keep it from slipping into elevator territory. The mix is rich — bass, keys, light fuzz guitar, all doing their part without stepping on each other.

Lyrically, it’s a candy heart of a song:

“I like the things you say / They sound like peaches and cream”

Yeah, it’s saccharine. But it’s also charming. There’s something classic about it, like a love song written through the lens of a vintage pop 45. It’s not meant to wreck you; it’s meant to make you grin.

There’s no grit here. No danger.

But it grooves, it’s tight, and it earns its sweetness. This one goes on the playlist.

4. “On Repeat”

Musically, this one had me excited at first. The drums are killer — Pat locks into a hypnotic, head-nodding rhythm that gives the track some real backbone. The bass is thick. The keys are moody. It’s setting up something that sounds like it wants to explode.

But it never does.

Instead of a payoff, the chorus eases off. The tension fizzles. What could’ve been a raw, emotional punch ends up sounding like a well-behaved breakup song for road trips.

Lyrically, it’s the most confessional of the five so far:

“I keep seeing you saying goodbye / And those tears, they were clouding my eyes” “Oh the pain, up in my brain / Day after day / On repeat”

It’s trying to say something honest. You can feel it scratching at the door. But like the music, it stops short. The line:

“Take another little bite / Of those asinine thoughts of mine”

might be the most human thing on the album so far. But it’s wrapped in a track that’s too polished to bleed.

A good song. A missed opportunity. There was a storm here — they just didn’t let it break.

5. “Man on a Mission”

Finally, this one hits with intent.

The drums are locked in. The fuzz is thick. The tempo moves like it’s late for something. This is The Black Keys stretching their sound without losing the core. The bridge break and tempo shift is fantastic — a slow grind with a synth layer that somehow feels both slick and filthy at once.

The song has dynamics. It rises. It falls. It struts.

Lyrically, it’s more mantra than message:

“Hold up, wait up / Pull up, stop for a minute / I got one shot, can’t stop / Man on a mission”

It’s not poetry. It’s not trying to be. But it fits the track. It drives the track.

This is what good, straightforward songwriting can sound like when the band’s locked in. Obsession, urgency, need. And it is all expressed through tone, rhythm, and restraint.

[embed]“Man on a Mission.” The Black Keys.

“Man on a Mission” is what this album could be when it remembers how to sweat.

What Comes Next

There are still six tracks under wraps:

“Down to Nothing,” “Make You Mine,” “Kiss It,” “All My Life,” “A Little Too High,” and “Neon Moon.”

And truthfully? That second half could swing this whole thing around.

If the back end leans more into the swagger of “Man on a Mission” and less into the Spotify-core of “No Rain, No Flowers,” we might have something. But if the rest of the album keeps rounding off its edges in favor of universal comfort, then maybe this isn’t a Black Keys record and it’s just a very good Dan and Pat production.

And I’ll say it again: I’m not mad at growth. I’m doing it myself, in my own music. But growth without grit is just a rebrand. And I don’t come to The Black Keys for branding. I come to feel something.

Final Thoughts

So yeah, I’ll be waiting for Friday. Headphones ready. Still hoping.

Not just because I love this band.

Because I owe this band.

They made me believe I could write songs. They helped raise my kids on dirty grooves and good taste. I’ve danced to their records in dive bars and driven long highways with their riffs in my chest. They reminded me that all you need is a fuzz pedal, a good line, and something worth chasing.

And look — trying new things? That should always be part of the deal. Any musician who doesn’t push themselves creatively isn’t evolving; they’re just repeating. Think about Blur’s “Song 2” compared to what Damon Albarn did with Gorillaz. That’s reinvention. That’s risk. That’s art.

And sometimes pushing works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

I respect what The Black Keys are doing here. Stretching into synths, pop structures, and piano-led grooves. They’re coloring outside the lines of what people expect from them. And I am here for it.

But here’s the thing: when you step outside your comfort zone, the music still has to move. It still has to shake something loose in the gut. It still has to feel dangerous, even if it’s dressed in new clothes.

Right now, No Rain, No Flowers feels like a band walking new roads in well-behaved shoes. There’s groove. There’s polish. There’s even a little shimmer.

But I’m still waiting for the feels. Still waiting for the emotion. Still waiting for the song that kicks the door in and says: yeah, we’re still those guys.

Because I know they can. They’ve done it before.

And there’s nothing beige about that.

Rich Kolodziej is a writer, lawyer, musician, and former trial attorney from Chicago, IL. He received his JD from DePaul University College of Law and spent over two decades in the courtroom, earning more than 75 jury verdicts. In 2019, seeking a better work-life balance, he shifted away from daily litigation — freeing up space for a secret musical project with his wife of seven years. Their band has since taken them from Summerfest in Milwaukee to SXSW in Austin and the Richmond International Film Festival in Virginia, with many stops in between.

When he’s not working, writing, or playing a show, you’ll likely find him on his back patio in the shade, a glass in hand, with his Basset Hound, Georgia Mae, stretched out at his feet.

Rich’s wife is an accomplished songwriter in her own right — two of her songs have been featured in Rolling Stone — and she balances her creative life with a career in the nonprofit world, doing work that actually makes the world a better place. Rich has also written an unpublished noir-based science fiction novel and enjoys exploring the tension between modern culture, politics, and what it means to belong.