In a tabloid driven era where instant gratification and overly saturated information streams are available at the touch of a button, Jack White stands alone in the music industry as a refreshingly traditional figure.
Representing a direct link back to the mythical world of the Delta Blues, alongside the subsequent Dylan and Rolling Stones blues rock era, White is a steadfast advocate of such tangible and authentic values which had seemingly become distorted amongst a disposable, portable market.
Recent media fuelled run-ins with fellow heavyweight rock troupe The Black Keys, and a perceived negativity towards former bandmate Meg White amongst others has been met with a full public apology and an attempt to rectify the common misunderstandings of sensationalist journalism, in effect imploring fans to concentrate on what mattered most in the first place – the music.
This somewhat mystical and unpredictable public persona coincides with White’s eclectic output, forming a unique contrast of modern day guitar icon turned elusive blues, rock & roll figure of yesteryear, satiating the appetite for each record release as a genuinely enthralling moment of anticipation for precisely which iteration of the man will be portrayed next.
‘Lazaretto‘, then, begins with the undoubted aim of attention grabbing as opposed to an outright autobiographical piece in ‘Three Women‘, creating a playful and absorbing introduction in which a jaunty piano and organ infused ragtime melody underpins a distinctly less misogynistic alter ego narrative in Ludacris’ ‘Area Codes’; White exclaiming, ‘It took a digital photograph to pick which one I like’, as an offhand swipe at social media age superficiality.
The title-track sees the welcome return of White’s trusty fuzz box and instinctively screeching solo guitar runs, creating a distorted, spitting platform for a natural progression of debut ‘Blunderbuss’ ‘Freedom At 21’s near hip hop vocal rhythm, where oxymorons rule the roost within a track compounding the variety of styles on offer, blending everything from soul and punk to gospel and even electronica.
Referencing the country and bluegrass leanings of his previous work on the Cold Mountain film soundtrack, and production on ‘Van Lear Rose‘ by Loretta Lynn, ‘Temporary Ground‘ is a collaborative effort with fiddle player Lillie Mae Rische helping out on vocals, highlighting a swelling of creative room and influences made possible at this junction in White’s career by the male and female studio and touring bands at his disposal.
Ominous reverberating distortion and strident piano chords make way for haunting vocals before a gentle lyrical examination of the trepidations of romance and the chastening fear of potential heartbreak on the sublime ‘Would You Fight For My Love?‘, in which White solemnly cries, ‘It’s not enough that I love you, there are all these things I have to prove to you’, leading to an impassioned chorus of droll analysis on the subject of longing.
In keeping with past innovation flying in the face of stagnation, White throws in a purely instrumental blues howl of a track on ‘High Ball Stepper‘, where dirty bass guitar notes strut like a lost Dead Weather song having finally found its home, exacerbated in the extensive scraping, metallic guitar shrieks punctuating the remainder of the track, leading into the simplistic country rock genius of ‘Just One Drink‘ – a loveless relationship and an ill attempt at rectifying matters by way of intoxication.
‘Alone In My Home‘ is White’s depiction of how a person can be surrounded by people during the day, but when twilight descends feelings of loneliness linger, emphasised in remarks such as, ‘I’m becoming a ghost, becoming a ghost, so that nobody can know me’, interspersed with mandolin and maniacally stuttered, spritely piano which in parts sounds uncannily like the melody found on Vampire Weekend’s ‘Giving Up The Gun’.
The thought provoking ‘Entitlement‘ bemoans the sense of privilege in today’s society and the children growing up within it, like an endearingly quizzical grandparent, segueing into the madcap blues stomp of ‘Black Bat Liquorice‘ that is notable if not for its ability to incorporate the word ‘avuncular’ into the alternate rhyming patterned, funk driven verse.
Penultimate track ‘I Think I Found The Culprit‘ recalls Raconteurs material such as the vintage Americana laden ‘Old Enough’, while sleepy guitar and softened piano abound as ‘Want and Able‘ culminates what is a chaotically grandiose record in the best possible sense, providing more food for thought in the lyrical tackling of how desire and the actual means of acquirement can often be very far apart.
The nautical implications within the title ‘Lazaretto’ are an appropriate metaphor for the voyage of discovery through a plethora of notable historical musical landmarks throughout this album.
The various plays and scripts penned by White’s 19-year old self provide an intriguing basis for self collaboration which results in a thoroughly enjoyable listen, showcasing a talented mastery of many genres, yet remaining steadfastly his own work bolstered by the ever blossoming artistic freedom allowed by a solo record.
