Jack White’s latest project
One band isn’t enough for Jack White, or even two. The co-founder of the White Stripes and the Raconteurs is the driving force behind yet another project, dubbed Dead Weather. Whereas he sings and plays guitar in his two other groups, White largely confines himself to drumming in Dead Weather, with Kills’ singer Alison Mosshart handling most of the lead vocals and Dean Fertita (of Queens of the Stone Age) on guitar. But the project has White’s distinctive fingerprints all over it. His production and songwriting once again embrace a raw, fuss-free vibe, with robust guitar riffs and drums that force the action. “Horehound” (Third Man Records/Warner Brothers) has a you-are-there immediacy, with dramatic swings in volume and density and touches of sci-fi keyboard atmosphere. Obsession permeates lyrics that could serve as a B-movie script or the outline for a pulp novel: “I like to grab you by the hair/And sell you off to the devil.” The music grinds and lurches, as if writhing through a fever dream or crawling through glass. It’s tense and claustrophobic, with Mosshart sounding appropriately misbegotten, while Fertita’s guitar jabs in and out. The low end positively vibrates at times, the rock equivalent of a gangsta-rap rumble. All that’s lacking are truly great songs. Beneath the noir garage-rock and prickly attitude, the melodies are just ho-hum.
Chris Daughtry became the most successful fourth-place finisher in “American Idol” history in 2006 when his debut album sold 4 million copies. Tucking “Idol” ballad bombast inside a rock-band chassis turned the North Carolina singer-guitarist into a shaven-headed star, the first rocker to emerge from Simon Cowell’s diva-maker franchise. On the follow-up album (on RCA), Daughtry co-writes with a host of mainstream rock hitmakers, including members of Lifehouse, Three Days Grace and Nickelback. First-album producer Howard Benson returns to buff every hook to stadium-rock proportion and jacks up every arrangement until the arrangements sound uniformly shrill, devoid of dynamics or drama. The femmes fatales in these songs leave the narrators howling, usually in gang-style choruses that start to blend together after a few listens. Maybe that’s because emotional power plays combined with sanitized rock riffs makes for a hit-single formula that’s been around since the dawn of REO Speedwagon. “Leave This Town” is what happens when a formula turns into a cliché.