The Black Keys, interview: 'we'll never change' Says Carney, "The only other person that Dan or I could find that was really serious about quitting their jobs to focus on music, to go on tour, make albums, and risk a lot, with nothing guaranteed - was each other." As a guitar-drums-and-vocals two-piece playing garagey blues, their early years were spent in the shadow of the White Stripes. Critics, in particular, had difficulty getting beyond the comparison, and afforded Jack White's band the higher ground. Auerbach and Carney struggled, releasing self-recorded albums on the Mississippi indie label Fat Possum, and touring widely for five years on a shoestring - just the two of them in a van, Patrick driving nights, Dan in the daytime. In 2006, they finally cut their first album for a major label, but they soon realised that the changes they needed to make were internal. "We were too insecure to have a song sound good enough to be radio-worthy," reasons Auerbach. None of our first albums were good enough. It was all based on our inability to communicate with somebody who runs a studio. "But we both were collecting keyboards and weird instruments," Carney recalls, "So we basically went in the studio and just said, --- it, let's use all this stuff." To help them, they enlisted Brian Burton, aka Danger Mouse, who at that point in 2007 was best known as a keyboard-toting hip-hop producer (for Damon Albarn's Gorillaz, among others), but who has since earned a reputation as a Brian Eno-style musical guru. Burton took them into a proper studio for the first time, and together they dreamt up the exotically textured Attack & Release, which took the band up a level to touring theatres. At this point, the pair's equilibrium wobbled. Carney went through a painful divorce, and Auerbach made a solo record without even telling Carney. "We took a breather to re-evaluate," says Carney, "and we realised that we both find it easiest to make music with each other, and that it is more enjoyable that way." Their next record, 2010"s meaningfully titled Brothers, was entirely self-recorded, but for one track, Tighten Up, which they recorded at the very end, with Burton's help. It was this tune, with its heart-warming whistled intro, stumbling beat and amorous themes, which finally got them radio airplay, and put them into rock's top bracket. "The luckiest break we ever had," says Carney, "was not to have any major success until we were both over the age of 30. We spent eight years watching other people's mistakes. So when it came for us, we didn't say, "Now it's time to take a vacation." It was like, "Now we have to work harder."" For last December's El Camino, they enlisted Burton as co-producer and co-writer. He made them reappraise every line of every song, and put each decision to a three-way vote. The result was the Black Keys" catchiest, most successful collection yet. "It isn't my favourite record," says Auerbach. I much prefer Brothers. Brian's suggestion was to come up with the vocal melodies first, then the lyrics had to fit around them. For me, it was like writing a song in reverse - not my style at all, but that's why it was cool. Songs such as Lonely Boy and the T-Rex-inspired Gold on the Ceiling, are perfect radio-pop. As a result, the Black Keys are now touring Europe's arenas as the band of the moment. Still possessed of a fierce underground mentality, each of them flinches when I ask if they've made changes to their act to satisfy bigger audiences. "The first time we played an arena in Canada, it was a bit surreal," Carney admits. "But every time you double your crowd, you ask yourself, "Do I have to do something different?" The answer is, "You absolutely should not do anything different. You should do whatever it is that got you into those places in the first place. Through the history of rock "n" roll, you see lots of bands making the mistake of putting on the tights when they get to arenas." He laughs. Don't do that. Another lesson, well learnt. Tour details: theblackkeys.com