Review by AVA LIVERSIDGE
Jack White stealthily released an unmarked, vinyl-only surprise, free to fortunate visitors to Third Man locations. For those of us not lucky enough to be at White’s self-operated record store, label, recording studio, pressing plant, et al, his latest work, No Name, is on streaming.
Behind his gimmicks, showmanship, and judicious aesthetic eye, Jack White is the best we’ve got for a guardian of the “Rock Tradition.” White’s sixth solo project No Name arrives at the perfect time to remind contemporary audiences that the lawlessness requisite to fuel true rock has not totally dissipated—White has evinced a career-long tact for surprise factor.
The discs distributed at Third Man locations were blank barring the LP title No Name and the words “Heaven and Hell” etched into side A and “Black and Blue” on side B. Per usual, White rewards the esoteric listener. Diligent fans uploaded MP3s of their vinyls in anticipation of the digital release, and, in short, White delivers on No Name. It is a record in the tradition of our beloved White Stripes, lacking much of the overly-stylized pastiche that his solo career has occasionally fallen into. LP No Name is bluesy, thick with fuzz, and an appropriate amount nostalgic.
In 2001, at the cusp of gaining commercial success, White penned the track “This Protector” which was released on the Stripes’ third record White Blood Cells. The primitively simple track features White hammering on a couple piano chords and a creaky vocal delivery from both Meg and Jack. For all of the 2 minute track’s willful naiveté, White’s message is strikingly premonitory.
Placed at the close of the record that would launch the duo into fame, White doubts his ability to be “this protector” of the blues-based rock tradition. So much of what made the White Stripes great was the richness and omnipresence of the musical traditions they were drawing from—namely the Delta Blues and punk rock lineages. The White Stripes were so abrasively devout, eschewing any bit of embellishment in their musical approach. They were sonic ascetics in a culture that was increasingly ravenous for more.
It is striking that still today, almost a decade and a half after “This Protector” was released, White seems to be playing the same role. The near-caustic rock produced on his latest release sounds out of its place and time. And still now, White knows of his position’s precarity. He meticulously plans secret releases, carves cryptic messages into records, and builds a larger-than-life buzz to protect a music that is anything but elusive. White’s music is pure, bold, sometimes harsh, but religiously straight-forward.
LP No Name is available via Third Man Records.
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