"Lazaretto"
Jack White
3.5 stars
Thank the rock gods for Jack White. While so many modern records have such controlled production that the music itself sounds plastic, White knows that music isn't a product, dammit. It's art, and art isn't something that holds back or smoothes over its rough edges.
That's evident all over "Lazaretto," the sophomore solo album from the alum of the White Stripes/the Raconteurs/the Dead Weather. He lets the cymbal crash as long as it wants to at the end of the title track, as a cymbal should. He allows the electric guitar to scream out a few final, screechy notes at the end of "High Ball Stepper," as a guitar should. In other words, he gives the music room to breathe. And opening track "Three Women" immediately reestablishes the rocker's raw influences, delivering such automatic, simple pleasure that it's easy to get distracted by the blend of guitar, piano and synthesizer and overlook the quintessential bluesy storytelling underneath.
As everyone should know, White's never doing one thing at a time.
Before I get too carried away, it's time to admit that I don't love "Lazaretto" as much as White's debut solo album, "Blunderbuss." There just isn't anything about the new record that leaps out and shakes me to my core like its predecessor's standout "Freedom at 21." The songwriting on "Lazaretto" is ghostly and thoughtful-and, at times, a bit too much like what we've heard from the talented artist before.
That's a minor complaint when what we've heard before is transcendent. "Lazaretto" is still an entertaining time. Just give it more than one, or two, or three listens, lest you miss snarky jabs like, "Well I watch TV/And you watch the ceiling" on "Just One Drink." Ouch.
IN CONCERT: July 23, Chicago Theatre; July 24, Auditorium Theater. Sold out.
