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'