SKODA’S MOVE INTO THE MAINSTREAM
Iused to like Ohio-based fuzz blues two-piece The Black Keys. Their first two albums (The Big Come Up and Thickfreakness, since you asked) were exceptional slices of stomping, dirty, Midwest alt.blues. Even Rubber Factory, the duo’s third LP, had its moments.
Why am I bothering telling you this? Mainly because I don’t like The Black Keys any more.
Without wishing to sound like an utter music snob (oh, okay, it’s basically unavoidable), I lost interest in Messrs. Auerbach and Carney the moment they — and there’s no less churlish way of saying this — achieved all their dreams and became famous.
I didn’t want them to become a sort of quasi-glam band that appealed to millions, but the duo went ahead and did it anyway. Now they probably own matching jet skis.
The reason I bring this up is, I’m worried the same will happen with Skoda. With the arrival of its first SUV, I suspect Skoda as a brand is about to become . . . ugh, mainstream.
I’ve smugly liked Skoda for a long time. “Longer than you!” I’d shout at anyone who dared suggest its models had been on their radar for a few months, too. Whatever, mate. I liked Skoda way back in the early 2000s, when it relaunched in New Zealand and the carmaker had to roll its eyes at all the inevitable baby boomer-launched jokes about its 1960s-70s-era Iron Curtain-hobbled reliability.
Truth was, even by 2003 the company had already been operating under Volkswagen management for several years and was way ahead of the public perception that dogged it.
The first boxy, slightly-too-highriding Octavia RS we saw here will