Jack White: Frozen Charlotte review – brutal, squalid blues-rock that just about sells its own ridiculousness

(Third Man)
Following the superb No Name, White continues his fan service with stripped back songs and nasty, anarchic riffs – though it all ends up feeling a little samey

It’s a strange thing to say about one of the most prolific artists of his – or any – generation, but: Jack White has been undergoing something of a career renaissance of late. After firmly establishing himself as one of the most beloved and defining figures of 21st-century rock with his early-00s blues duo the White Stripes, White seemed to get bigger and bigger over the next decade-plus, releasing albums with well-liked side projects the Raconteurs and the Dead Weather, dropping a couple of fine solo albums, and helping spark the music industry’s vinyl revival with his label and pressing plant Third Man Records.

But, at some point in the mid-2010s – around the release of his third solo album, 2018’s Boarding House Reach, let’s say – White’s influence and celebrity seemed to be outweighing his actual output, with rising pop stars like Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo naming him a prime influence. Record plants the world over became backed-up, thanks to pop stars releasing dozens of gimmicky vinyl variants of their own albums, resulting in months-long delays for indie artists – hardly a problem White was responsible for (and likely one he himself was annoyed by), but certainly the result of a craze he had helped spark. At the same time, all the quirks and codes of White’s output – the specific colour schemes and sometimes arcane guiding opinions – threatened to overwhelm the immediacy and sharpness that had once been the core of White’s actual music.
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