This article was originally published on Clash
The music business needs a superhero, and a vigilante label boss may just be the person for it.
The rapid devaluation of artistry prompted by the weightlessness of streaming over the past decade has been a threat to Jack White’s obsession with all things analogue. To combat the looming stagnation of the flat-surfaced digital era, he has cultivated an inimitable marque by playing with color codes, texture, arrangement and technology in a series of attempts at preserving traditions that bring people closer together.
Halfway through 2024, the Willy Wonka of music has resurfaced with what is arguably his most rousing solo effort to date. Always firm in his drive to keep audiences focused on creativity rather than celebrity, the 12-time Grammy winner has substituted (perhaps temporarily?) his blue aesthetic and the lithe tingle of static outlining it with a fresh bundle of faceless songs.
In late July, people shopping at his Third Man Records stores in Detroit, Nashville and London were unsuspectingly slid copies of what turned out to be White's sixth solo album. The unannounced package has no name, track titles, credits or cover art, whereas its vinyl-exclusive rollout lasted all of one day. Soon after the news of the mystery disk began making the rounds, the imprint responsible for it encouraged those in possession of the item to rip and distribute it. Furthermore, said company uploaded the components of the LP to Google Drive for a free download.
Backed by the infallible guitar–drum–bass framework now synonymous with his brand, the Motor City native has used his weapon of choice—distortion as calmingly shrill as his voice—to remind listeners that things needn’t be a certain way just because that’s how they already are.
By surrounding himself with artisans proficient in equipment rather than genre and masterfully presenting ostensibly passé products for modern audiences, he has made guitar music work during a time where the kids rarely ask for it. Not only that, but White’s untitled record also manages to satisfy every need he has positioned his day-one fans to rely on him for since he started out three decades ago.
With his trademark pliability anchored deep beneath the surface, he is able to swerve from garage blues (“A_01,” tentatively) to glimpses of the Raconteurs (“A_03”) to electric folk (“B_02”) with a coherence few can replicate. Adding to the execution of his abrasive and unambiguous punk joint “A_06,” the 49-year-old multidisciplinary keeps his middle finger raised up high as he raps about “tear[ing] down the institution” with the charisma of a street vendor on “A_05.”
The music did, does and always will come first.
Besides finding new ways to make shredding transcend its otherwise insufferable reputation, he has now joined the likes of Radiohead and Trent Reznor in demonstrating to the music circuit—especially those with the finances to set new standards and lead by example —that trade and commodification isn’t necessary for art to flourish.
A mad scientist who is incapable of being boring, Jack White has been rallying the troops and sticking it to the man for years. His latest album, it is safe to say, might just be his campaign’s biggest win thus far.
SCORE: 8/10
Comments