Review: Jack White – No Name

No Name is the closest we’ll get to a seventh White Stripes album, and is arguably White’s best solo release.

 

Jack White’s sixth solo album No Name arrived as a complete surprise. Anyone who shopped at his label’s brick-and-mortar stores in Detroit, Nashville, and London on July 19 – and only on this day – found themselves being handed a blank vinyl album that only read “NO NAME.” There was no indication of who the artist was, let alone any song titles, but anyone who put this record on would immediately recognize White’s distinctive voice and guitar style. Thankfully, the album got a proper release and track listing on August 2 so all fans could hear it, but its vague title has remained.

No Name’s clandestine release is the opposite of the more traditional, strategic releases of his 2022 albums Fear of the Dawn and Entering Heaven Alive. These albums were not only announced several months in advance with the expected slow drip of singles, but each had a complementary theme: Fear of the Dawn was full of loud rock tracks, while Entering Heaven Alive was much gentler and rooted in folk music. In contrast, No Name’s fanfare-free release reflects its raw, minimalist sound.

If you hear “raw” and “minimalist” next to Jack White and immediately think of his time in the much-lauded White Stripes, you’re on the right track. The White Stripes might have disbanded over a decade ago, but No Name is the closest we’ll get to a seventh album by them. The track “Bless Yourself” builds a memorable blues rock melody from a handful of power chords just like the Stripes, and its lumbering drum beat is so on point you’ll wonder if Meg White herself is back behind the kit (it’s actually Patrick Keeler of the Raconteurs and the Greenhornes). The same can be said about the cymbal-heavy drumming on “It’s Rough on Rats,” which combined with its slurred guitar melody makes it sound straight out of the Stripes’ second album De Stijl. The song “What’s the Rumpus?” similarly echoes the earliest White Stripes releases, even if its lyrics about frustration with the music industry (“when will the label dump us?,” “now what genre will they lump us?”) were likely borne from his now multi-decade career in the biz.

Getting deeper into the weeds of the 2000s garage rock revival, the more frantic tracks on No Name will remind you of the White Stripes’ Swedish contemporaries the Hives. The bassline and explosive power chords on “That’s How I’m Feeling” have the same simple melody much like the Hives’ breakout hit “Hate to Say I Told You So,” and White shouts the chorus with almost as much fervor as Howlin’ Pelle Almqvist. Likewise, “Bombing Out” is a short and sweet track that might be the most intense thing White has ever released. “Number One With a Bullet” has Hives vibes at its chorus, although it sneaks in a guitar interlude that’s signature Jack White, while “Missionary” is somewhere between the Hives and Queens of the Stone Age. In other words, there’s no lack of hard rocking tunes on No Name.

These returns to the great sounds of 20 years ago are certainly welcome, but we all know Jack White didn’t exactly launch his solo career to remain stuck in the past. His five preceding solo albums have all shown an impressive breadth (sometimes a little too much; see the scatterbrained Boarding House Reach) and a willingness to embrace styles that you would never hear on a garage rock album. “Archbishop Harold Holmes” is one of the most compelling tracks on the album, with rapped lyrics spinning a tale of a priest who offers salvation via chain letters. If the idea of Jack White rapping sounds peculiar, he’s actually much perfected his flow since “Ice Station Zebra” on Boarding House Reach. The opening track “Old Scratch Blues” opens with plentiful White Stripes blues rock riffs, but Keeler’s fierce drumming and an outro of psychedelic guitar effects very authoritatively distinguish it as a beast all its own. “Underground” has a somewhat similar bait-and-switch, with the most White Stripes-esque chorus you could imagine gradually giving way to White’s more dynamic guitar experiments.

No Name is easily White’s most cohesive solo release, and is even heavier than Fear of the Dawn. Anyone who prefers White’s folkier side will be sorely disappointed, as will fans who’ve embraced his idiosyncrasies and hoped for something with as many twists and turns as Boarding House Reach. In defense of these views, No Name’s lo-fi production does muddy the tracks, making them occasionally feel uniform, and it’s taken me a few listens to fully untangle them from one another. That said, it’s never formulaic. If you listen to solo Jack White, there’s a 99% chance you also loved the White Stripes, and will therefore really appreciate No Name. It’s arguably his best solo album yet, and you’ll be thankful he didn’t limit its exposure to those fateful Third Man Records shoppers.

Rating: 8/10