It’s a mark of deep rooted talent when a band that is borne of whim takes the entire world of rock n roll by storm, slowly but surely claiming souls and headlining slots at Coachella. Then again, Jack White is not your run of the mill kind of guy.
On Sea of Cowards, The Dead Weather look past their sex drenched grimy debut and seek refuge in siren guitar licks and their own demented and irresistible take on he/she “harmonies”. Glitz? Glamour? Hell no. Give me odes of deteriorating health, muffled drums and bass lines that seem to halt mockingly—knowing just when you need more and t-t-teasing you all the same. How about an amplified return to blues-rock form? Lucky for us, the impeccable Mr. White himself claims more of the spotlight than he did on Horehound, spinning blasphemous puns about the Holy Mother among a million other things. Oddly enough, White’s more audible presence makes for a more balanced record—one that doesn’t seem to leave you in as much of a head spinning daze as their debut. Sure, you’ve heard this music before, but not since your teenaged Tuesday night rituals of getting stoned in the basement amongst your dad’s records.
The Dead Weather are here to stay, and if you question their authority one more time, Alison Mosshart will bite your head off and wear is as an earring.
4.3/5
1 comment:
The best SoC review I have read so far! Thanks for that. I just got my LP in the mail today!
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