...The Next New Nextest Thing I'm Waiting For...
Jack White refuses to get bored. Whether it be the gradual 180-degree turn from blues-rock (which has not been entirely abandoned) to bizarro-songcraft, or his newest venture, the Raconteurs, his fingers and mind are continually find ways of keeping busy. And also keeping the music world buzzing. If negative press is still good press because of the attention, then there's been no lack of attention thrown Jack's way these days. Not to say the press has been negative about the music, but we're getting a glimpse at the true feelings behind many music journalists plastic exteriors. More than once has it been said (in some form or another): "finally! Jack White is stepping out of the White Stripes to pursue music-making with other minds besides his own!"
I.E. "We haven't really liked what he's been doing since the release of White Blood Cells, but it would've tarnished our hipster appearance to backpedal on any band we once worshipped. So we'll swallow down Elephant and Get Behind Me Satan for solidarity, but really...thank god!!"

You'll not hear such rubbish spewing from this mouth. I'll admit I was hesitant and scared when I heard that Jack was beginning his side project. (Traditionally this can mean the end of an era for many bands; a sign that someone has gotten bored.) Yet I have enough faith in Mr. White's enigmatic, fish-in-a-fruitcup mentality that leads me to rest assured that the daring and dynamic dynamo that is the White Stripes will resurface to obliterate musical conceptions once again.

For the meanwhile, we are left to muse over the aural offerings of the Raconteurs, the shotgun marriage of Jack White and Brendon Benson, the power-pop songsmith from Detroit. Apparently Jack and Brendon used to share diapers or something. In any event, we are led to believe that the connection between the co-songwriters is deep and mystical.
The quartet is rounded out by two people who no one seems to notice or care about because they only play drums and bass in another band, the Greenhornes which hails from Cinncinati. They also don't offer much in interviews, so they're generally disregarded as furniture.

Usually such supergroups (in the "I've never heard of any of these guys" category) end up leaking a great deal of their bounty over the internet long before the album is released. My own personal research can testify to the fact that the vault has remained securely locked on this project, and the only tastes of Raconteuristicisms that we will be allowed to have come from their already-released single, Steady as She Goes and the far more intriguing Store Bought Bones which recalls dark psychedelia and sensless mumblings in the stead of lyrics. Awesome.

The claims that the songwriting remains absolutely "50-50" between Benson and White seems fairly aparent, although oxy-moronic (the idea that they should exchange letters of the words and still come up with a coherent sentance? Impossible!) alternating between Benson's talent for hooky melodies and riffs that you later try to remove from your head with a board, and White's confounding ability to still find sounds in an electric guitar that I've never heard before. And be a eccentric weirdo, of course.

So despite the copious amount of verbage being slung around this column, I am anxiously awaiting the proverbial dropping of this album on May 16 (US.) It should prove to be one of the more interesting records that will be released in recent months. (That is right after the special anniversary re-issue of Captain Beefheart and the Spider Monkeys.)
The only bone I'll pick with the boys is how a "full-length" album can constitute only ten tracks (which isn't the big deal) but can clock in at only a shade over thirty-four minutes! This album had better sell for about $5.86 at Wal-mart to ensure we actually get our money's worth.

T.