[rating=10.00]
Jack White never intended to make a solo album.
However, after Wu-Tang Clan abbot The RZA was forced to cancel a session he had scheduled at Third Man to record a 45 as part of the label’s acclaimed Blue Series, White decided to keep the musicians he hired on the clock to lay down something for himself. By that day’s end, he had three songs written, and after a few more times of keeping the tape rolling after hours, the guitarist had a total of 25 demos worked up. And once he picked a baker’s dozen of his favorite tracks, split the songs up between two distinct factions of studio pros (a female group led by master drummer Carla Azar of Autolux and a male ensemble helmed by renowned hip-hop percussionist-for-hire Daru Jones) he emerged with the sublime Blunderbuss.
But the announcement of a Jack solo LP isn’t so much surprising as the lyrical arc interwoven within the context of these 13 cuts. Despite the veneer of amicability that was presented upon the announcement of White and ex-wife Karen Elson throwing a divorce party “to help us celebrate this anniversary of the making and breaking of the sacred union of marriage”, as it stated on the invitation, the predominant theme of Blunderbuss suggests a world of hurt beneath the surface of positive vibes. Though White himself has yet to directly admit these songs are about his relationship with Elson, it’s hard to ignore the black math, so to speak, in his words, even though Elson herself sings back-up on several tunes here.
On songs like the Rhodes-laced opener "Missing Pieces" and the crunk-cracking "Freedom at 21,” Jack gets downright Game of Thrones in his descriptions on how the pain in his post-matrimony heart is hurting him, evoking images of being chopped up into pieces and then later having the bottoms of his feet sliced off and then forced to walk over a bed of salt with his fresh wounds. "Sixteen Saltines", the closest the album comes to the ragged glory of his White Stripes days, finds his metaphorical femme fatale puncturing a hole in his lifeboat with her spiked heel and then gorge him with meds "until I drop dead,” while the shimmeringly soulful "Love Interruption" finds him inviting love to "stick a knife inside me and twist it all around." Even the title of the LP itself, named after a muzzle-loading firearm that was the weapon of choice for soldiers in the American Revolution, is indicative to the volatile nature of the material presented here.
Yet its White’s indelible ear for arrangement and song-craft that offsets the viscera of his words, as Jack expands the area on his sonic map to incorporate elements of his adopted hometown of Nashville, as fiddle, pedal steel and mandolin punctuate tracks like "Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy,” "I Guess I Should Go To Sleep" and "On and On and On.” Elsewhere, a Leon Russell-esque piano waltz adds a ruffled sense of grace to "Hypocritical Kiss", while his deep knowledge of classic Southern R&B turns its head on a spirited cover of LIttle Willie John’s 1960 mover "I’m Shakin’" and the dirty down bottom funk of "Trash Tongue Talker.”
And in spite of all the bad blood and emotional guts spilled across the scope of Blunderbuss, the record ends on a sweet note of hopeful longing, as White leads his estrogen-heavy ensemble of Azar, guitarist Olivia Jean, Brooke Waggoner (no relation to Porter) on electric piano, fiddle players Lillie Mae Rische and Fats Kaplin, upright bassist Bryn Davies and the winning combination of Elson, Ruby Amanfu (who so beautifully accompanies White on "Love Interruption") and Laura Matula on backing vocals through a Brubeck-style melody that finds him yearning for his un-betrothed to "Take Me with You When You Go", because "I’ve got nothing keeping me here." It’s a gracious end to Jack White’s finest pound-for-pound album since Elephant, one that shows whether he has only one woman behind him or a seven-nation army of them, it’s the female presence running through his mind that truly brings out the best in him.
