It seems that the less Black Keys fans know about Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney, the greater the odds of them being enraged by Attack & Release. And yes, there are plenty of purists who are pissed about the new and most genre-mashing album to date from the Akron, Ohio–based duo.

“A lot of people weren’t ready for this, and that’s pretty evident from some of the comments on our Web site,” says Auerbach with a wry laugh, reached on his cellphone en route to Phoenix, Arizona. “Some of those people associate us with our first two albums. Others didn’t hear about us until our last album. But what it comes down to is that we’re not making records for anyone but ourselves.”

What’s ironic about that statement is that Attack & Release is the first album that the Black Keys haven’t made totally by themselves. For their fifth full-length, the famously DIY Auerbach (vocals, guitar) and Carney (drums) handed production duties over to Danger Mouse (aka Brian Burton), who is arguably best known as the skinny half of hip-hop experimentalists Gnarls Barkley. On paper, that makes about as much sense as teaming Timbaland up with the Hives. Instantly infamous for 2004’s The Grey Album (an unauthorized, mind-fuck mashup of the Beatles and Jay-Z), Danger Mouse has made his name as one of the most inventive producers in urban music. Over the course of four self-recorded, defiantly lo-fi albums, starting with 2002’s The Big Come Up, the Black Keys have become cult faves for their distortion-swamped take on scuzz-blues. With Attack & Release, they drew up a new battle plan.

“We knew that we wanted to mix it up,” Auerbach explains. “We knew how to do that—all the instruments on the record were ones that we brought from home. Brian knew that we wanted them all on the record. Basically, he was another musician who we could bounce our ideas off of. That made the whole project really fun. We really got way into the idea of keeping it out there for a while.”

In other words, the Black Keys are no longer the grimy minimalists who started their career signed to the grit-blues-obsessed Fat Possum Records. There are still moments on Attack & Release where Auerbach and Carney sound like a full-bore Saturday night at a crossroads booze can, with “Remember When (Side B)” rawking every bit as hard as their back catalogue. Elsewhere, though, it’s all about branching out, whether it’s the woozy flute and bass harmonica in “Same Old Thing” or the ’60s-saturated Moog that swells up in “Lies”. Bongos, banjo, electric piano, and honey-dipped female vocals colour songs that swing from the 4 a.m. balladry of “All You Ever Wanted” to the space-cowboy Americana of “Remember When”. For those wondering where hip-hop factored into things, check out Carney’s backbeat in “Oceans & Streams”.

Although the collaboration has outraged some of the band’s more inflexible fans, it actually makes perfect sense. Critics have long ghetto-ized the Keys as a feedback-splattered answer to R. L. Burnside, but Auerbach and Carney have never claimed to live on a diet of Mississippi mud and bathtub bourbon. Instead, if you’re looking for their first musical loves, you can start with old-school rap giants like the Geto Boys, Too $hort, Gang Starr, and the Wu-Tang Clan, whose Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) changed Auerbach’s life.

“I’m sure it was just like people hearing psychedelic music in the late ’60s for the first time,” he reveals. “It just blew me away.”

Attack & Release began as a project to revive the career of the late soul legend and occasional wife beater Ike Turner. Danger Mouse contacted the Black Keys and asked them if they’d be interested in writing and playing on a comeback album. Although the project lost steam after the completion of four songs, Auerbach and Carney saw enough of how Danger Mouse worked to be impressed.

“I think the two-and-a-half months that we worked with Brian on the Ike thing got us really comfortable with him,” the singer says. “That made us realize that he wasn’t the kind of guy who would try to dominate things and impose his will or a sound on you. Do you know what I mean? Because we had all these musical points in common—we all like old-school hip-hop—it somehow just felt right.”

Things felt so good, in fact, that the Black Keys decided to change the way they made their own records. Right from the point they first started playing together, Auerbach and Carney have never bothered with professional recording facilities; it was more fun hanging mikes from the water pipes in the basement for their earliest recordings. For 2004’s cacophonous Rubber Factory, they set up in an abandoned Akron warehouse, while 2006’s more polished Magic Potion was crafted at home. For Attack & Release, the Black Keys decamped to a studio. But don’t expect them to re-create that Danger Mouse magic on-stage; when Auerbach and Carney find themselves in front of an audience, it’s business as usual.

“It’s just the two of us,” Auerbach says. “We’ve always looked at playing live and making records as two different things. We never try to re-create songs from the records note for note. That’s boring—I can’t stand when I go to a show and a band does that. It seems so uninspiring.”

That the Black Keys’ live show is still stripped-raw guitar, drums, and vocals is good news for those die-hards who’ll never forgive the band for not making The Big Come Up over and over and over again. Not that Auerbach has much time for those who’ve been posting on the band’s message boards for all the wrong reasons.

“It’s really weird,” he says thoughtfully. “I really love Fat Possum—I think they were responsible for a resurgence of really cool blues music. But it just sucks when you only like that one style. You really have to have an open mind about things. Free your mind, and your ass is guaranteed to follow.”

The Black Keys play the Commodore Ballroom on Sunday (April 6) as part of the Straight Series.

In + out

Dan Auerbach sounds off on the things that enquiring minds want to know.

On the Black Keys’ early years: “We liked to record, and that was it—to be in the basement with a four-track and hanging mikes from pipes. It was all about goofing around.”

On the band’s mushrooming fan base: “We’ve been really fortunate to have seen an increase in interest pretty much right across the board, from Australia to the States. For us, it makes us think all the touring that we’ve done over our career is finally paying off.”

On the Ike Turner sessions: “After two months, we decided to put it on the back burner. We knew that we really needed to get a new record out, and also knew that Ike didn’t need to—he was busy with oldies package tours in Europe. The plan was to get ours done and then resume working on the Ike thing.”

On initial goals for the Black Keys: “When we started out, expectations were so low that it was always easy to keep the faith. We’d make $50 at a show and be like ‘Whoa—this is so awesome and cool. We can do this forever!’ ”