NINE-TO-FIVE ROCK STARS

The Kings of Leon weren’t always boring. With the meteoric success of 2008’s Only by the Night and the Grammy-nominated follow-up, 2010’s Come Around Sundown, the quartet’s rock-star résumé included onstage meltdowns and canceled tours. They coped with stardom by “roaming hotel corridors in naked cocaine stupors,” and told CNN, “We can consume more alcohol than any other band that ‘actually works.’”

Now they actually just work. The years of clichéd antics are behind them; they’ve consciously turned away from rock ’n’ roll excess. The four members of Kings of Leon (brothers Caleb, Nathan, and Jared Followill, along with cousin Matthew Followill) live in nice houses in the same sleepy neighborhood outside Nashville. They’re supportive of one another. They’re polite to strangers. They get along.

I caught up with drummer Nathan Followill recently to talk about their new album Can We Please Have Fun. It’s not a question. Coming from them, at this point in their career, it’s a polite request. “This is by far the best place we have ever been in our lives as a band, as bandmates and family members,” says Nathan. “The title of this record could not have been more spot-on because this was the most fun we have ever had making a record."

To reach the studio, the guys took a 25-minute drive “through serene, gorgeous horse country,” according to Nathan. Once they got there, “every day we’d have a bowl of cereal and decide what to do that day.” It’s telling that a relaxed atmosphere, family bonding, and breakfast stood out about the making of their ninth record.

As he mentions that “we paid for it ourselves and had no one to answer to,” it struck me that if you didn’t know any better, you might think he was just a friendly long-haired accountant, talking on Zoom with a client, in his home office filled with expensive taxidermy.

“Couple of snakes crawled up some walls. We were definitely out in the middle of nowhere. It was like summer camp for us. I think that comes across in the record, that we just went with the flow.”

The relaxed state in which they made this record reflects the band’s current mindset. “Whatever was going on in your life at home that morning, you had forgotten completely about it by the time you got there. Every year we have a family reunion in the middle of Oklahoma. This place reminded us of that, and the nostalgic feeling of our childhood,” says Nathan.

I don’t know if Nathan really meant that. The brothers’ upbringing reads like Hillbilly Elegy, homeschooled sons of a preacher, abject poverty, living out of cars and church basements. When they did have a home, “we were living in the worst of the worst ghetto in Oklahoma City,” according to Caleb in the band’s documentary Talihina Sky.

Their father’s drinking problem led to his being booted from the church and a subsequent divorce. “We weren’t allowed any TV or nonreligious music,” says Nathan. “Sometimes in trying to find the right radio station, he would come across a Rolling Stones or Led Zeppelin song. He would never tell us the name of the song or who it was.”

So naturally, after not being allowed to listen to secular music, the three brothers—with cousin Matthew—formed Kings of Leon. Another cousin, whom they call “Nacho,” would join as a roadie (and still tours with them to this day). Success was modest at first, but the lifestyle was familiar. “When it came time to start the band, it was very easy for us to hit the road, nomad gypsy-style,” he recalls. After a few years together, they wrote the massive hits they’re known for, “Sex on Fire” and “Use Somebody.”

Nathan ascribes the band alchemy to their upbringing: “For me and Caleb...growing up, being in a car together all the time, or a church together all the time, we developed a sibling bond that is not normal, I would say.”

Now in the back half of their career, they’ve largely kept their fans, and it’s easy to see why: Caleb Followill has a rare natural-born talent. It’s obvious even in a cringey vocal duet with Nathan on a local cable Christian show as a kid. Caleb has a striking purity and emotion in his delivery. The religious upbringing, the childhood poverty, the transience of his youth, even the sins of the South, are all wrapped up in his trademark raspy howl. As Eddie Vedder told Rolling Stone, “Caleb’s vocal delivery is so unique, and his phrasing—it’s like what they used to say about Sinatra.... His phrasing is what really made it. I’m not really into Sinatra, but I get that.”

But most rock stars are talented, and almost all families fight. It seems like a recipe for continued disaster. So how do they keep the peace after 25 years as a family band? Nathan opines: “We had so many memories of being together in the car.... Sure, we fight and have arguments, but at the end of day, we can stay a band and travel the world and have fun and make money, or we can break up. But even if we break up, you’re still gonna have to see each other every holiday.”

The point of being in a band isn’t just to coexist and make money—it’s to make music. Hopefully, music people want to hear. So how’s the new record? I “like” it. It’s “good,” just as the last several Kings of Leon records have been “good.” They are professionals who know how to play their instruments, craft melodies, and capture the songs well (the drum sounds on the new record are particularly strong). A couple songs stand out, particularly “Ballerina Radio" and “Split Screen”—you can hear them becoming set staples on a Kings of Leon cruise or at the inevitable Vegas residency.

As Nathan explains, “By your ninth record you’ve used every chord progression known to mankind—you have to find ways to reinvent that.” It then occurred to me that the band is the musical equivalent of the taxidermy on Nathan’s wall: impressive, expensive, but no longer evolving. Once vibrant, alive, and unpredictable, but now regally fashioned in place for the long haul. I thought again of their earlier chaos, that it could have injected some surprises into the music. I wanted a little more uncertainty in what I was hearing. After all, rock ’n’ roll isn’t supposed to be safe.

Kings of Leon have become a nine-to-five band, but maybe that’s not a bad thing for them. They run a family business, after all, and it seems like they’re on a long-deserved corporate retreat after another solid fiscal quarter. “I saw Caleb the other day and we agreed it feels like we’re just getting started. Like this is just a rejuvenation. There’s something special and magical going on in our world right now, and we’re latching on to it and enjoying it as much as we can, and riding it as long as we can,” says Nathan.

After my pleasant conversation with Nathan, I asked the publicist if I could speak to another band member, or maybe conduct a quick photo shoot? Not possible, I was told. The guys had limited time these days, with family commitments. There was only so much time to be in Kings of Leon. (“We have so many kids between us, there’s a cousin birthday party every few weeks!” Nathan had exclaimed.)

These days, the Followills have a routine just like anyone else: They get up in the morning, feed their kids breakfast, go to work, then come home. They’re punch-in, punch-out rock stars. And while it’s contrary to all the headline-making rock ’n’ roll adventures of their past, it has probably ensured their longevity. “Our wives are happy to have happy husbands at home,” Nathan says. Elaborating more on the benefits of this approach, he continues: “And our kids? They’re flying everywhere. They’re not in the back of an Oldsmobile with no shocks, getting their neck broken with every pothole they drive over.”

Who’s to say how long they’ll stay settled down? I still have my money on Vegas.