The Dead Weather - Horehound [Album]
 

The term 'Classic Rock' rightly sends shivers up the spines of most discerning music lovers. The sort of meat-and potatoes blues rock which thrived so decadently in the 60's and 70's is in this day and age seen as a trite and embarrassing reminder of everything we should have moved on from in these musically diverse and enlightened times (a stance which used to be adopted when looking back at the 80's, however this year those particular glasses have not only been rose tinted, but bleached, painted and blow dried). Of course this very fact makes stringent blues rocker Jack White's ascension to super-stardom over the last 10 years all the more perplexing. This is a man who has taken the authenticity and mythology of the blues and manipulated it into an exceedingly profitable post-millennial gold mine. Add to that the fact that the man is incredibly prolific (3 bands at a rate of almost an album a year) and you have a man for whom the phrase 'less is more' never even registered.

Of course this work ethic is bound to throw up some duds and to my ears there hasn't been a decent White Stripes album released since 2004's earth conquering 'Elephant'. The Raconteurs have tended to nurture White's less interesting side while the 'Stripes' have seemingly morphed into his own vanity project. In short he's trying to have his cake and eat it, and the music has suffered as a consequence. White's latest venture however, actually caught me a little off guard, I wasn't expecting to enjoy this album at all but after a few spins I've managed to pierce it's rough, dirty exterior and have seen it for what it really is, the purest, most convincing record White has put out in 5 years. The bands name almost gives the game away really with it's insinuation of dangerous, stormy weather neatly summing up the bands ethos. This is distorted delta blues fed through black tar and is is precisely what Jack White was put on this earth to do.

On first listen as opener '60 Feet Tall' gurns into being you'd be forgiven for thinking that the collective (completed by Kills front-woman Alison Mossheart, Queens Of The Stone Age's Dean Fertita and White's fellow Raconteur Jack Laurence) have set out to make a deliberately bizarre and confrontational record with it's sparse, quirky atmospherics. But when Mossheart and White join the party with their respective tortured vocals and simple, heavy and effective drums the game changes and the record takes flight. The first track sets the record up perfectly as it works as a litmus test for what's to follow, listening to this record in general brings me to the conclusion that Jack MUST have taught his sister how to drum, as the trademark 'White Stripes' drum sound is evident from the off-set and the distorted bass, dirty keyboards and effected guitars only add to the overall wall of sound. Mosshearts vocals though are much clearer and more focused here than they ever were in her day job, it seems White is using The Dead Weather as a showcase for his less connected friend and I couldn't be happier. The fuzz bass, vintage keyboards and tense rhythms that back up brutal rockers such as 'Hang You From The Heavens', 'Bone House' and 'No Hassle Night' are complimented wonderfully by Mosshearts vocals which can go from Hope Sandoval cooing to PJ Harvey queen bee posturing in a split second, it's her album really and one suspects the others know it.

There is another side to the band though, with the full sound of Fertita's hammond organ lending tracks such as 'I Cut Like A Buffalo' and 'Treat Me Like Your Mother' a southern-gothic ambience that lifts these songs above mere scuzz rock, Stooges pastiches. It's on '...Buffalo' where we first hear White join Mossheart on vocals too and their voices compliment each other well, admittedly they both operate in the same register so it's sometimes hard to pick out harmonies but the dual vocals add a thickness to to sound which would be missing otherwise. The tug of war vocals work best of 'Treat Me Like Your Mother' which is easily the most immediate and satisfying song the album has to offer, as the title suggests it's a dirty, sexually charged song hinting at grim oedipal fantasies where Mossheart squeals like a banshee and White responds almost like a drunken, blues rock Zach De La Rocha.

The Dead Weather can do quiet too when pushed, 'So Far From You Weapon', 'Rocking Horse' and acoustic closer 'Will There Be Enough Water' both rely on a more restrained approach that brings to mind the darker side of Mazzy Star or Nick Cave. 'Rocking Horse' in particular utilizes a swampy, Tom Waitsian guitar and dramatic, wordless chorus to dazzling effect, it's the most daring and layered song on the record. The second half of the record drags a little in places with their cover of Bob Dylans 'New Pony' coming across like a straight reading of the song as played by Led Zepplin and the instrumental '3 Birds' lacks any definable hooks (aside from a rather nifty bass line) so without a vocal track it's practically redundant. All of the other 9 tracks here have something to offer individually though and it's genuinely refreshing to hear an album spearheaded by Jack White that sounds as exciting and as invigorating as 'Horehound'.

It's not perfect but it's a start. A sinister, haunted, addictive and sonically cohesive record with balls to spare. Here's hoping for a sequel.

Tracklisting:-
1. 60 Feet Tall
2. Hang You From The Heavens
3. I Cut Like A Buffalo
4. So Far From Your Weapon
5. Treat Me Like Your Mother
6. Rocking Horse
7. New Pony
8. Bone House
9. 3 Birds
10. No Hassle Night
11. Will There Be Enough Water

Recommended:-
'60 Feet Tall, 'Treat Me Like Your Mother', 'Rocking Horse', 'No Hassle Night', 'Will There Be Enough Water'

Re: The Dead Weather - Horehound [Album]
 

I've been listening to this a lot. I must say I do agree, it's a funky effort. In fact I was spinning the album as I moderated this thread! Nuff said.

The Dead Weather - Horehound [Album]
 

How many times in the not so distant past have you been asked, “Where do you think music is going?” How many times? In my case the answer is one, which, fortunately, is all I need to continue.

If for you the answer is zero, stop reading and think about what you might say. Take your time. I’ll grab a coffee or something. If you’ve given it some thought and still feel unsure what to say, one way or the other, whether you have a clue, well then for better or worse you and I happen to be in the same boat.

If this question is one you’ve already pondered, you may be what someone once -- to my bewilderment and surprise -- labelled me: one of those “album-listeners”. It’s sad (to me, and maybe you too) but true: the Single appears to have recovered hegemony over the Album for most listeners. Perhaps this isn’t even news to anybody by this point. Perhaps the answer to “Where do you think music is going?” is so perplexing because the answer to “Where do you think the album is going?” is beyond perplexing. Perhaps the question has no answer. But that’s neither here nor there. You see, a substantial cause of my lack of inclination is an album like "Horehound".

Brimming with fuzz and consummate backbeats, The Dead Weather’s debut plays best at high volume, in open air where it can swirl. “Bone House” flat-out rolls on the album’s best groove, crunching and shifting beneath the verses. “New Pony” sways and swaggers. Vocals pass seamlessly between White and Mosshart on “Rocking Horse”, which brilliantly conjures the untamed West through loping bass and guitar twang. Overwhelmingly though, the cuts on Horehound don’t translate the initial surprise and vigor of their opening hook into contrasting sections capable of sustaining interest. Half of its songs are finished, creatively speaking, by the second chorus.

Like it or not, because Jack White is connected, Horehound carries plenty of baggage for a debut album – not to dwell upon Jack, whose essence I happen to savour (just like everybody else). No, the trouble with the baggage is that it predestines the parameters for hearing The Dead Weather’s initial effort, which to me constitutes an album very much lacking perimeters.

Aside from “Will There Be Enough Water” – which trudges through what may be the most graphic blues-innuendo on record (Will there be enough water / When my ship comes in?) (don’t look at me, I’d blame Robert Johnson) with all the appropriate vocal sluggishness, but musically never really takes off, even after about 4 minutes 30 seconds when it seems and, uncannily sounds like it could be building to a Midnight Rambler-esque sprint down the home stretch. The Dead Weather offer several glimpses into uncharted and experimental directions that deviate from the blues palette so oft-expected of White. In these select moments Horehound glimmers with potential, though ultimately it fails to harness them long enough to distinguish it as the album it could have been.

“60 Feet Tall” may be the best song on Horehound. It is certainly the most important. Taking stylistic cues from Jimi’s “If 6 Was 9”, its victory is in its space. The silence, the emptiness between the lines – be they vocal, guitar or bass lines – and the touch of reverb behind them lend each of these lines tremendous significance, so that when they surface the impact is just as harrowing as when they recede back into that vacuum. The song is a stewing menace. It itches and churns within its hollow of sound, the aggravation boiling over in seething climax as blisteringly psychedelic guitar pierces outward through a relentless cacophony of crashing cymbals. With their first song The Dead Weather come the closest to sonically embodying their dangerously sullen, all-clad-in-black aesthetic.

The other instances of eccentricity are scattered throughout the album. They exist in moments as brief as the synthetic dance beat at the start of “Bone House”, the initial shimmy of feedback and eventual guitar freak-out on “Rocking Horse”. Or during “So Far From Your Weapon”, where the underpinning production summons murky depths as black and viscous as the oil we can only imagine saturating Jack’s tangled mane. “3 Birds” contains the highest variety of provocative textures and haunting effects but, like most of the songs, its direction isn’t concrete enough to have a lasting impact. These elements flirt with combining varied sources and genres but don’t receive the necessary focus to fully mature. They don’t evolve into something powerful, distinct and presently unknown – a cohesive musical aura The Dead Weather can call its own.

Retrospectively, the sensation emanating from Horehound is one of restriction, as though the packaged essence of the band predetermined its possibilities, resulting in a somewhat underachieving album. Contention of ego… Mosshart vs. White; that’s the overwhelmingly presented dynamic (see video for “Treat Me Like Your Mother” where both proceed to shoot each other full of holes and then walk away as if nothing happened) but what will really make or break The Dead Weather’s next album is the dynamic between “Little” Jack Lawrence and Dean Fertita. It is their interactions that spur the disparate segments of Horehound that are dark and beyond classification and these moments of coalescence point to a vast potential. Those of us looking for some answer as to where music may be going can only hope that the future will find The Dead Weather plunging further into the darkness to discover what kind of sounds exist there.

This review was done by:
http://hangout.altsounds.com/members/imightbewrong.html