In the storied history of rock music, we were long told what it meant to be a man. From the slicked-back pompadour of Elvis Presley to the rugged, raspy-voiced defiance of Kurt Cobain, the archetype of the rock star has been a constant, evolving thread. Yet, as we look at the landscape today, it feels as though that specific bloodline has thinned. Enter Jack White, a true survivor of the era who, 25 years after the explosive debut of The White Stripes, remains a singular force in modern music. With his seventh solo album, Frozen Charlotte, White proves that he is not just a relic of the past, but a vital, albeit strange, architect of the future.
A Liturgical Approach to Rock
Frozen Charlotte is a sleek machine built from the salvaged parts of rock’s history. Across 13 tracks and 43 minutes, White delivers a collection of night-terror boogie, car-crash jams, and haunting incantations. There is a distinct, almost monastic quality to his persona here; he acts as a bona fide adept of ancient blues-rock texts, wielding his technical proficiency with a liturgical intensity that is as impressive as it is unsettling. From the ominous, rhythmic rumble of the opener, “G.O.D. and the Broken Ribs,” White channels the spirit of legends like Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, weaving tales of generational curses, scarlet women, and the untamable nature of the human spirit.
The Art of the Street Fight
If there is a central theme to Frozen Charlotte, it is the adversarial stance White takes against the encroaching darkness. He poses the age-old question: who wins the street fight, the tough guy or the crazy guy? Throughout the record, White makes it clear he is betting on the latter. This approach yields some of his most compelling work in years. Tracks like the strutting, declarative “Nobody Knows” sound like a collision between AC/DC and philosophical inquiry, while “Dollar Bill” and “Thick as Thieves” showcase his ability to pull brilliant, unspooling riffs from an seemingly bottomless creative attic.
The production is bolstered by his crackerjack four-piece band, including drummer Patrick Keeler, bassist Dominic Davis, and keyboardist Bobby Emmett. Together, they find deep, resonant pockets of sound that evoke the best of soul survivors. Whether he is channeling the nursery-rhyme pummel of The Who on “I Can’t Believe What I’m Hearing” or exploring the knottier, glam-infused side of his 1975 birth year on “She’s in a Frenzy,” White proves that he is a student of the entire alphabet of rock, from Allman to Zappa.
Neil Young talked about this. Rock’n’roll will never die. Not if we don’t get in front of the problem. When Aerosmith recorded their 1989 “comeback album” Pump, the oldest member was Steven Tyler at 41. In the meantime, we have Frozen Charlotte, a muscular, hard-edged, how-to manual for the true nature’s child. The student is now the teacher. School’s in for summer.
