Impenetrable prose aside, there’s treasure to be found on Jack White’s new album

Jack White, Frozen Charlatan
★★★

Jack White was once the biggest musician in the world – the saviour of rock, the pale-faced guitar god who blasted from the garage into the stadium as one of the most captivating artists of the 2000s. Still mercurial and prolific, he’s now more of an acquired taste.

On his first album since The White Stripes’ induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, White doesn’t reinvent the wheel or push himself into new waters. It’s Jack White: the guitarist of a generation, carrying the torch for a bygone era.

Too often, the record sees White indulging his worst instincts. Derecho Demonico is a cacophony of feedback and high-pitched squeals. Dollar Bill sounds like the kind of manufactured White Stripes-adjacent anthem that infuriated White about The Black Keys and Kings of Leon.

And while White has always been a more accomplished musician than lyricist, here his apocalyptic views on America’s future are obscured by largely impenetrable prose.

But you don’t go to see a James Cameron film for the dialogue – you go for the mind-altering spectacle of someone creating worlds beyond worlds.

For those who crave the thrill of first hearing the lightning strike of Icky Thump, there’s still treasure to be uncovered. G.O.D. and the Broken Ribs crackles, a rolling thunder riff chugging into White’s bluesy shriek. I Can’t Believe What I’m Hearing is a tight, radio-ready belter. And Raising The Grain is a rollicking beast, that combination of whirling vocals and Earth-shattering guitar that made White such a compelling force to begin with.

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