CD Odyssey Disc 1897: Jack White

Before sitting down to write this review I first restored the wiring to an unplugged speaker and then went down the hall where I exclaimed (not for the first time), “stop knocking over my Doo Wop collection!”

Having two kittens in the house is not always music friendly…

Disc 1897 is… Lazaretto

Artist: Jack White

Year of Release: 2014

What’s up with the Cover? Blind Guardian showcased Morgoth on his throne with three Silmarils and a dancing elf, (Disc 1820) and Big Daddy Kane had a plate of fruit (among other attractive features) on “Long Live the Kane” (Disc 1108).

Jack White is not to be outdone in the game of thrones, depicted here surrounded by a host of angels, going so far as to use two of them as armrests.

Jack also has the best suit of these three covers, with this resplendent sharkskin suit that falls somewhere between Kane’s minimalist toga and Sauron’s protective but uncomfortable plate mail.

How I Came To Know It: I like most of what Jack White does and was eager to buy his second solo album as soon as it came out. So I did.

How It Stacks Up: I have four Jack White albums and “Lazaretto” comes in at #3. Nothing wrong with it – just stiff competition.

Ratings: 4 stars

In 2012 Jack White did his first “solo” album, having worked at his art first through the White Stripes and then the Raconteurs. That first record – “Blunderbuss” - is a blues-rock masterpiece and was well received by the adoring public as well. I like to imagine how that commercial and artistic success gave White the artistic license to see just how far he could push his unique approach to rock and roll. The result is the brilliant and sometimes overblown “Lazaretto”.

White starts off playing it “straight” or at least as straight as his twisted genius will allow. “Three Women” is a reimagining of a blues song by Blind Willie McTell called “Three Women Blues”. You could argue he steals the idea, but that would not do justice to just how different this song is. It may be inspired by McTell but this is White’s signature “blues twisted like wrought iron” sound through and through. It is a great song, and not even one of the record’s best.

From here, White starts to take flights of fancy along many different paths. The title track follows, a tune that deploys White’s oft-used funk-crunch sound, alongside his best staccato delivery. The song is the musical equivalent of a street rat with a wad of twenties – brave and reckless and flashing green in a way that’s not entirely safe. The song is so all over the place it practically fidgets, changing speed and course two thirds of the way through before giving way to the tortured fiddle of Fats Kaplin. It’s a lot, but also just the right amount.

“Temporary Ground” follows, with a folksy number that feels like when Zeppelin takes a break, only less borrowed. Few artists can take very old musical structures and traditions and twist them into something as new and innovative as Jack White, and Lazaretto is chock full of such examples.

I also love the piano trill of “Alone in My Home”, paired with Fats Kaplin’s mandolin and the occasional drum thump, it is a syncopation-fueled dream. There is also some great loose harmony with a singer I was delighted to discover (for the first time) is none other than Lillie Mae Rische.

I ‘discovered’ Lillie Mae quite independently from this and never put two and two together, even with Jack White producing her album “Forever and then Some” (reviewed at Disc 1379). She’s great, and a welcome additional voice on the record.

For 80% of this record, White is delivering 5-star glory all over the place, and the only time things fall down, they don’t so much as fall as stagger under the weight of their own ideas. The instrumental “High Ball Stepper” is a drunken master of a song but while innovative and filled with energy, has one too many “band warming up” moments to stick the landing.

I had to dig pretty deep in the tracks to find that gripe, however, and generally the weirdness that makes it hard to love every song on this record is part of what makes it better on repeat listens.

Best tracks: Lazaretto, Temporary Ground, Alone in My Home, Entitlement, The Black Bat Licorice, I Think I Found the Culprit

CD Odyssey Disc 1813: Jack White

I’ve never been through a desert on a horse with no name, but I have been through a few work commutes with an album called that.

Disc 1813 is…No Name

Artist: Jack White

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? I thought this was water droplets at first, but my good wife observed that it is actually a picture of a cement wall.

Whatever it is, it is a whole lot of nothing. If I wanted some random texture for an album cover, I could pick from any number of stock background fill effects in MS Publisher.

How I Came To Know It: I am an avowed Jack White fan through his many iterations (White Stripes, Raconteurs, Dead Weather and solo work). When this came out I immediately checked it out, even though I then had to wait a while to acquire it (more on that later).

How It Stacks Up: Despite my aforementioned fandom, there was a brief window where I was not picking up what Jack was putting down. As a result I have only four of his six solo efforts and no plans to get the other two. I am happy to say that Jack is back in my good books. Of the four I have, “No Name” comes in at #1.

Ratings: 4 stars but almost 5

“No Name” is pure, cask-strength, double-distilled Jack White. Over the years Jack White has tried on a number of different hard rock styles, and with each one he kept what he liked, crossed it with his unique guitar style and compositional genius and then moved on to the next challenge. “No Name” feels like Jack coming full circle, as he brings in elements of everything he’s learned (or created) over the past twenty-plus years, finding the elemental core of its being, and applying amplification.

The quintessence of Jack White is grimy, blues-rock guitar, played like a man wielding a hammer in a marble quarry, with violent but controlled aggression. There is a garage punk element to his playing at times as well, but above all else it is defined through grit and crunch. The riffs are inspired and feel timeless.

“No Name” has thirteen songs, and nary a one disappoints on the riff meter. Rich and aggressive and loud no matter how low you set your volume. Jack White has never sounded crunchier.

There is also a joyful abandon to White’s playing on this record that made me think of his earliest work with the White Stripes. Rock for rock’s sake for seemingly no other reason than – to reference one of the song titles - because that’s how he’s feeling right now.

The brilliance of Jack White is never in question, and the list of what he’s done for modern hard rock – production, guitar style, vocal delivery, and songwriting – is long and distinguished. But there is also a bit of Dylan in Jack, in that when he decides he’s going to go and do something, he’s going to go do it, and whether you like the new direction or not feels very secondary to his journey.

Whether by design or accident, “No Name” is nevertheless a crowd pleaser through and through. Long time fans will welcome back the pure Jack of their youth. People hearing him for the first time will stop and shake their heads and exclaim, “this guy has over ten other records? Sign me up!”

Throughout it all, White’s love for the history of rock and roll is evident. You’ll hear echoes of Motorhead, the Who, and a host of old blues masters besides. White’s charm is that he can pay such beautiful homage to the musical history of rock and roll and still surf the front edge of the wave.

There are so many favourites on this record, and for the most part it is the riff you will fall in love with first, last and always. Some songs have two or three complementary riffs, but for the most part “No Name” is like great Italian cooking: three or four ingredients, artfully mixed and produced just enough to bring out the flavour, while retaining the bite.

Lyrics feel secondary on this record, although I do appreciate a few lines from “What’s the Rumpus?” where White provides a nod and wink to critics and record execs along the way that may have doubted his journey:

“What’s the rumpus?
When will the label dump us?
They tried to stump us
Now in what genre will they lump us?”

The sly dog knows he’s got a hit record on his hands and he wants the doubters and haters to know that he knows. Well played, Mr. White.

My only gripes are not about the music at all. First, I loved White’s soft release of the record by sneaking unmarked copies into shoppers’ bags. But then he took his sweet time toying with whether he’d let the rest of us get a copy. I think he toyed with us a bit longer than was polite, but I suppose that’s rock and roll.

Second, once finally out, the CD release does not list the tracks on the back, just more ‘cement’ background. Sure the liner notes have the lyrics (kudos) there is no good reason to not let me follow along with the song titles during a listen.

None of that is a reflection on the music, however. If anything the reason it was frustrating to wait for is because it is so brilliant. That’s a good problem to have.

Best tracks: Old Scratch Blues, That’s How I’m Feeling, It’s Rough On Rats (If You’re Asking), What’s the Rumpus?, Underground

CD Odyssey Disc 1799: The White Stripes

What I review is randomly selected, which means an album can get reviewed right after I buy it, or many years later. This next album has been kicking around for a long time, but the dice gods finally selected it.

Disc 1799 is…Self-Titled

Artist: The White Stripes

Year of Release: 2002

What’s up with the Cover? “Red and white is our thing”. In 1999 we didn’t know how far they’d ride that aesthetic. Turns out, pretty much the whole way.

How I Came To Know It: I’d like to brag that I was with the White Stripes from the beginning, but the truth is I discovered them along with most other people when they released their third album, “Elephant” in 2003. I immediately dug backward and made up for lost time, finding this record in the process.

How It Stacks Up: I have six White Stripes albums, which is all of them. Of those six I had reserved fifth spot for their eponymous debut, but I liked it too much for that, so I’m bumping Icky Thump out of fourth. This is my last White Stripes review, so as is tradition here on the Odyssey, here’s the full recap:

1. De Stijl: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 753)
2. Elephant: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 251)
3. White Blood Cells: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 126)
4. Self-Titled: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
5. Icky Thump: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1499)
6. Get Behind Me Satan: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 577)

 Ratings: 4 stars

Jack White didn’t save rock and roll, but he did throw a bucket of water on it while it was sleeping, poured three shots of bourbon down its throat, and told it in no uncertain terms, “enough of this resting on your laurels - we’re hitting the bars.” 1999’s eponymous debut of his (and Meg White’s) band the White Stripes is where it all began.

While many artists of this era were trying to make production decisions to make things sound louder, the White Stripes redefined what loud could be. Jack White’s guitar, now universally lauded and emulated (but never duplicated), is a revelation. He doesn’t play the guitar he attacks it like Charles Bukowski attacks a poem – raw and violently, like it’s a heavyweight fight of the bare knuckles variety.

At its core, this record is, like a lot of rock music, a blues album. White even provides a Rosetta Stone to translate for the newly initiated with two blues covers, Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breaking Down” and “St. James Infirmary Blues”. Both turn the crunch and gravel up to 11, supercharging these age-old tunes and making you hear them again for the first time. I have four different versions of “Stop Breaking Down” and with apologies to Lucinda Williams, the Rolling Stones and Mr. Johnson himself, the White Stripes do it best.

“Stop Breaking Down” is the second of a trio of songs (along with “Jimmy the Exploder” and “The Big Three Killed My Baby”) that open the record. That three song attack (for you will feel attacked) is so ferocious it almost killed me as well.

That’s what you can expect in large degree for the whole record. Screeching, yawling guitars chugging forward with a primal but deliberate fury. There are White Stripes albums that I like more (see list above) but I’m not sure there are any that match the visceral oomph of the debut. It feels like Jack has spent his whole life vibrating with the need to shout his truth and then someone put a guitar in his hand and said, “speak with this.”

Most of the songs are White Stripes originals, but in addition to the blues covers they take a turn at Bob Dylan, with a cover of “One More Cup of Coffee”. I can’t say this is better than the original (having Emmylou Harris on backing vocals gives Dylan the unfair advantage) but it is damn good.

I have a bass player friend who hates the White Stripes (they have no bass player, so the hatred is easily traced), but with apologies to bass players everywhere, you don’t miss it here. Jack has it all covered and anything he misses Meg is there to pick up on the drums.

In addition to blues influences, the White Stripes bring punk rock sensibilities to the music, getting on a song, thrashing it out of their system, and moving on, most often in under three minutes. Ordinarily I have a rule that no record should have more than 14 songs. The White Stripes have 17, but the album still clocks in at a restrained 44 minutes, so I mostly forgive the transgression.

I play the album while I’m reviewing it, and when I first started writing this review I found it hard to concentrate. At first I wondered if it might have been the previous night’s rum and cokes, or maybe a lack of coffee, but it was that the record kept demanding my immediate and total attention. I had to turn it down just to get a thought in edgewise.

That’s OK if you need to write something, but generally the White Stripes should be played loud. Let it sink into your guts and bones where it belongs.

Best tracks: Jimmy the Exploder, Stop Breaking Down, The Big Three Killed My Baby, Wasting My Time, Astro, Screwdriver, One More Cup of Coffee, I Fought Piranhas

CD Odyssey Disc 1607: Jack White

Greetings, gentle reader. I have the day off today, but I spent most of it doing chores and Christmas shopping. With the time left I’m going to write this review!

Disc 1607 is…Entering Heaven Alive

Artist: Jack White

Year of Release: 2022

What’s up with the Cover?  Jack White, dressed in some kind of smock/headband ensemble, leans into the stream of white light, presumably to “enter heaven alive”. Personally, I think entering heaven alive would be quite painful, to say nothing of how you’d manage to keep your corporeal self from falling through the cloud cover as soon as you got there.

How I Came To Know It: I am a fan of a lot of Jack White’s work, so I typically give his new releases a spin. It doesn’t always work out. He’s released five solo albums and while I’ve heard them all, only three of them were good enough to purchase. White released two albums in 2022; this one and “Fear of the Dawn” but only this one measured up.

How It Stacks Up: As you may have already surmised from the previous paragraph, I have three Jack White albums. Of those three, “Entering Heaven Alive” is…last. Someone has to be last.

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

Jack White is to rock and roll what Quentin Tarantino is to classic film; both are students and curators of their medium’s themes and evolution across multiple generations. Both sometimes let their enthusiasm for form overshadow emotional resonance, and both are so good at it that you tend to forgive them anyway.

For Tarantino, this means you are likely to see classic movie shots and styles, skillfully worked into a modern film. For White it is the same, only with music, and on “Entering Heaven Alive” White seems more focused on this process than ever before.

The biggest influence this time around is the psychedelic folk/rock of the late sixties and early seventies. White has always had an interest in this era, but it feels (or maybe I remember it) as previously driven principally through his guitar. This is still present, but “Entering Heaven Alive” explores a lot more of the organ and strings you were liable to hear in music of that era.

There is a heavy Beatles influence in places, particularly on “Help Me Along” which has a Sargent Pepper feel to it, if Sargent Pepper was kidnapped by a commune-dwelling string quartet.

The guitar is still there. The Mexican-flavoured picking of “All Along the Way” and the Americana folk of “Love is Selfish” set off well against the fuzzed out riff-fest of “I’ve Got You Surrounded.” On the latter you’d like to say great solo, but the song is essentially a collection of various guitar and piano licks. “I’ve Got You Surrounded” has exactly as much plot as the title provides, and not a lick more, but you won’t mind. Just bob your head and enjoy the patchwork quilt of grooves.

This record is sparsely produced (which I like) and it allows White’s vocals to be a greater point of emphasis. He’s always had a sort of emotionally wounded teen kind of vibe to his delivery, and this makes the album range between “moody troubadour” and “overwrought melancholiac”.  The former is fun and we swoon along with the sad songs, even when (lyrically) they say so little. The latter feels more like when you are trapped in the corner of the kitchen with a party guest telling you about his divorce for the third time that night.

And while the record’s lyrics are more a delivery system for all the musical exploration, there are times when you can tell dear old Jack has found a turn of phrase that he likes a little too much. Examples include, “We met in the rain/in a field of burning sugar cane” and “Pass me the bread and the brown sugar cubes/and I’ll butter your toast while you take off your shoes.”

Kill your darlings, Jack.

The album is more about mood pieces and isolated imagery, but a pair of late-appearing gems, “If I Die Tomorrow” and “Please God Don’t Tell Anyone” rise above. Combined, they tell the story of someone fearful of damnation for the things he’s done. Never mind entering heaven alive, these are the tortured thoughts of a man who is fearful of entering at all. The narrator doesn’t plead for clemency, instead exploring the existential dread of a life of ill-deeds, and a few good ones, and the uncertainty of knowing just how these will balance on the scales when time runs out.

The album ends with “Taking Me Back (Gently)” which has a jaunty beat and a shrill saw of a violin bit that made me feel like I was walking between tents at a carnival. Not so much the area with the rides, but rather the area the carnies hang out on their break. Like a lot of the record, the music takes you backward (in this case to turn-of-the-century ragtime). While I admired White’s capacity for bringing yet another musical element into the mix, the song doesn’t quite land after all the hippy dippy folk-rock revival that comes before it.

While overall I liked a lot of songs on this record, something was missing. White’s craft is there, but I didn’t feel emotionally drawn in. Like those Tarantino films, you love the craftsmanship, but you are more aware of how and why you are enjoying it, rather than it just soaking naturally down into the soul.

Best tracks: A Tip From Me To You, Love is Selfish, I’ve Got You Surrounded, A Tree on Fire From Within, If I Die Tomorrow, Please God Don’t Tell Anyone

CD Odyssey Disc 954: The Dead Weather

Thursday night Sheila and I went to see Henry Rollins’ spoken word performance. While not music, I highly recommend going if you get a chance. Rollins’ energy is infectious and his observations while highly personal touch on universal notes and make you see the world with fresh eyes.

I haven’t reviewed an album by this band for over five years. Crazy. Back then they were kind of new to me but now I find I haven’t put this on for many years. That is one of the great things about the CD Odyssey – it reminds me there is a lot of music in my collection to love, and to not forget to love it all.

Disc 954 is….Sea of Cowards

Artist: The Dead Weather

Year of Release: 2010

What’s up with the Cover? Not really a sea of cowards so much as a line of weird super heroes. From left to right we have Bird Lady, Mr. Guitar Head, Creepy Jackalope Guy and the Wooden Wizard. Not exactly the Justice League of America.

How I Came To Know It: Our friends Sherylyn and Joel introduced me to this band with their earlier album “Horehound” and I liked it so sought out more of the same.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Dead Weather albums. I like all of them, but I’m going to put “Sea of Cowards” first, narrowly edging out “Horehound” for the top spot.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Sea of Cowards” is a case study in how to make intense, crunchy rock and roll that gets into your spine, gives it a shake and then departs, leaving you slightly rattled and loving the experience.

The Dead Weather is a collaboration of a number of famous artists: Jack White (White Stripes), Alison Mosshart (Kills), Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) and Jack Lawrence (lots of cool bands). While this is only their second album together but their playing is so on point you would swear they’d all grown up together and had been playing music with each other for 20 years.

Like many of Jack White’s projects, this music is heavily percussive with thick reverb and a crunchy sound that is unapologetically rock and roll. This is not an album to get fussed about lyrics and subject matter. This is a record for bobbing your head and letting your hair fall in your face.

The Dead Weather are not afraid to shift gears within songs, sliding from one groove into another within a single song without ever losing forward momentum or feeling awkward. Sometimes it feels like a jam session, if a jam session were to go absolutely perfectly in every way.

The vocal duties are shared by Mosshart and White, although Mosshart does the majority of the work. Her bluesy raunchy power is exactly what these crunch-fests need to lift their energy. The words themselves are just fragments and emotional snapshots, but matched to all that power they just seem more important. On “I’m Mad” Mosshart snarls “I’m mad” over and over again, throwing in a few derisive laughs here and there for kicks. On “Hustle and Cuss” she hustles and cusses and “licks on the dust.” What does it mean? Who cares, because in the hands of the Dead Weather it feels vital and insightful.

The record isn’t afraid to throw in seventies organ where it is needed, but while the spirit of seventies rock is alive and well, the approach to these compositions is thoroughly modern. The result feels like a clever fusing of new turns and approaches with old forms and chord progressions. It is music that isn’t afraid to take sharp turns at unexpected moments. The effect isn’t jarring, but rather helps create and build the restless energy these songs feed off.

The album is truly collaborative, with most songs having three of the four band members writing them, or at least two. Unexpectedly, the only complaint I had was with the one song written solely by Jack White, “Old Mary.”

“Old Mary” ends the record, and is half rock song, half spoken word. The song is delightfully haunted by organ, but felt a little directionless at times. At the same time, I wouldn’t take it off the record, because its softer, hazier vibe is the right cool down experience after the furious energy of the preceding ten tracks. It’s that last three minutes you take strolling on the treadmill after running hard for the previous fifteen.

“Sea of Cowards” is only 11 songs long and at a mere 35 minutes total playing time, leaving you wishing it were longer, but that is a good thing. It is a project with lofty ambitions that delivers on those ambitions. Four masters of their craft, coming together and redefining the rules of what a classic rock record should sound like.

Best tracks: Blue Blood Blues, Hustle and Cuss, The Difference Between Us, Die by the Drop, I Can’t Hear You

CD Odyssey Disc 773: Various Artists

I’ve discovered two new artists this week – Lera Lynn and Band of Heathens.

Lera Lynn is the woman who is singing mournful tunes in that dingy bar featured in True Detective’s second season. Band of Heathens is a bunch of indie/southern rock/blues/folk guys that write their own stuff and sing it well. Youtube them both and see if – like me – you plan to add them to your collection soon.

But now an artist that has been in everyone’s collect – one way or another – for decades.

Disc 773 is….The Lost Notebooks of Hank Williams

Artist: Various artists

Year of Release: 2011

What’s up with the Cover? An old wooden wall with Hank’s image on it, although you can barely see it through all the text. Around the edge you can see all the contributing artists, which is a nice touch.

How I Came To Know It: I saw this advertised in a music magazine I got as a Christmas gift from Sheila. She obviously saw it as well because when my birthday rolled around she bought me the album.

How It Stacks Up: This is a compilation album, so it doesn’t have anything to stack up against. The question is moot!

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

As my wife Sheila perceptively pointed out, “The Lost Notebooks” is “Mermaid Avenue” for Hank Williams, a living breathing treasure that is both the glory of the original artist and also the inspiration he generated in each contributor to the record.

The music comes from a satchel Williams would carry around full of all his old songs that was still with him when he died. Sixty years later, it is like uncovering a vault of forgotten treasure.

Like “Mermaid Avenue” and its recovered Woodie Guthrie songs, “The Lost Notebook” is a selection of Hank Williams songs he had written at the time of his death, but had not recorded nor set to music. Unlike “Mermaid Avenue” the honour doesn’t go to one or two artists to finish the work. Instead twelve different artists take a turn.

This might make the songs disjointed but instead they feel tightly connected, and not just through the lyrics which are classic Hank topics of heartbreak and loneliness. All the artists that contribute a finished song have captured the essence of Hank.

This gave me an even deeper appreciation for just how influential Hank has been on modern music. Every artist sounds like themselves, but in so doing they also show how their music is founded in the musical discoveries Hank made back in the forties and fifties.

The album opens with Alan Jackson singing “You’ve Been Lonesome Too” and both in arrangement and style, this song is a carbon copy of Hank Williams. Jackson sings so like Hank it feels like he’s been reborn. Usually I would complain that the ‘remake’ doesn’t do enough with the original song, but this song is original to me. Besides, it is so perfectly done I don’t mind the copycat job.

Other artists take greater liberties, but they never stray far from the lilting tone and tear-stained guitar that makes a Hank Williams song authentic. For some artists, like Jackson, Rodney Crowell or Patty Loveless, the influence was obvious from their own work. For others, like Jack White and Sheryl Crow, hearing them breathe life into Hank’s ghost made me appreciate just how much he was already living inside them.

The old guys featured on the record were some of my least favourites. Bob Dylan and Levon Helm sound old and tired, and Merle Haggard’s song sounds a bit too…Haggard. Surprisingly, Bob’s son Jakob’s offering is better than both of them, and it isn’t even one of my favourites. By the way don’t expect to ever hear that Jakob Dylan outdid his dad on a project again. This is definitely the only time that will ever happen.

Jack White wins for getting the song with the best lyrics with “You Know That I Know.” This is a song about a man who knows the dirty and low-down secrets of a girl and is warning her not to put on airs now that they’ve moved to town:

“Now you know that I know that you ain't no good

And you wouldn't tell the truth even if you could

Lying is a habit you practice where ever you go

Well you may fool the rest of this world

But you know that I know”

And my favourite part of down-home snark comes later with:

“To some folks you may be Mrs. So-and-So

But don't turn your nose up at me,

You know that I know”

Another favourite is Norah Jones singing “How Many Times Have You Broken My Heart?” which is an amazing combination of a Hank Williams’ inspired melody and the smooth tone of Jones’ voice. It is touched around the edges with just the right amount of Mexican guitar to balance Jones’ smokey tones.

Like Alan Jackson, Vince Gill and Rodney Crowell perfectly capture another side of Hank as his storytelling ‘Luke the Drifter’ character. I don’t really like Hank as Luke the Drifter so this particular song didn’t work for me as well as Jackson’s.

This album is worth your time if you are a Hank completionist or even if you just want another reminder of how deep and wide his influence has been on music. Not every song is great, but most are at least worth your time and all of them will have you hearing Hank’s ghost in every song for days after.

Best tracks: You’ve Been Lonesome Too – Alan Jackson, How Many Times Have You Broken My Heart – Norah Jones, “You Know That I Know” – Jack White, I’m So Happy I Found You – Lucinda Williams, “You’re Through Fooling Me” – Patty Loveless,