Jack White performing with the Raconteurs at the Austin City Limits Music Festival in Austin, Texas in September 2008. © AP Photo by Jack Plunkett.
If you entertained any question as to whether Jack White is a great artist, his solo debut should shove you right off the fence and about a dozen yards into his field.
Thus far, we have known the Michigander as the very strong frontman of acts like White Stripes and The Raconteurs, as well a the visionary producer of artists such as Butcher Holler’s own Loretta Lynn.
Blunderbuss makes it seem like that was all primary stuff for the vision White wanted to reveal when he stepped into the spotlight alone.
We’ve had a few glimpses of what this would be with tracks like the scorching blues of 16 Saltines and and the almost comically dark Love Interruption. The latter, with its lyrics about wanting love to smash his fingers in the door and murder his mother is emblematic of a record of songs at odds with love, though it wouldn’t necessarily be a breakup album — more like brooding with a bottle in your man cave.
Not that Blunderbuss is a real brooding enabler. It’s too invigorating with the myriad ways that White takes clear influences and channels them to his own devices. For instance, it is obvious this man’s brain has consumed a lot of Led Zeppelin over the years. There are indeed moments like the title track where it seems White is channeling both Robert Plant and Jimmy Page is one performance, and we are not talking about the prototypical British heavy metal band sound we get from many Zep wannabes. This is the country blues Zeppelin of Going to California and other classics, but orchestrated in a distinct White style.
Though White is very much a star of the digital age, Blunderbuss is a very analog-sounding album from the upright pianos and electric keyboards to the rattle of the drums and crackle of the guitars. Subtitle it “The Golden Age of Wired.”
I’m Shakin’, for example, is this great gritty romp — nothing particularly fancy, but a bare basics gospel-drenched number in the rhythm White owns. In the blaze, he tosses off the line, “I’m Bo Diddley.”
Maybe not, but with his previous efforts and this solo debut, White’s earned the right to be mentioned in the same breath with the greats.
