IN REVIEW: Jack White - "Fear of the Dawn"
Granted, two points: first, there is a second album coming this summer, one that apparently sees White recording with supplemental musicians in a more traditional sense. Second, Fear of the Dawn was largely constructed during the pandemic, while White was surrounded by all of his toys with all of the inspiration he could ask for and no one to play with. So as to say, further to the exercise in exploration Boarding House Reach was, Fear of the Dawn is truly the product of a singular, talented and creative mind left to its own devices for a prolonged period of time.
This much is made clear by the buzz saw lead track (and first single) Taking Me Back, a fiery and relentless number that establishes much of the album's through lines, namely a focus on volume and a liberal use of different sounds and seemingly as many layers as possible. This multi-tracked barrage is indicative of the album for the most part, White's many instruments (most of which performed by him alone) wrestling for control of the song; this is especially true of the guitars, which fizz, slash, screech and roar seamlessly into the following title track, a fleet and furious stomper that doesn't rest until it's done real damage (this only takes two minutes).
There's a brief moment to breathe during The White Raven's intro before the song explodes; its main riff is manipulated throughout as White piles on solos, breakdowns and some serious panning. Also, for some unknown reason, the drums here sound very flat, lessening the impact of what kind of sounds like Queens of the Stone Age getting hold of Blue Orchid after a long acid trip in the technicolor desert. Advance single Hi-De-Ho follows, utilizing a Cab Calloway sample and a guest shot from Q-Tip to create a shape shifting, head scratching excursion into sonic manipulation that ultimately comes off more than a little goofy. However, the drums sound amazing on this one; why not use the same kick thumps and snare cracks on The White Raven and make it a real shit kicker?
A second title track of sorts, Eosophobia (that's the technical term for fear of the dawn) surfs in on a wave of reggae-soaked rhythm before seguéing into a Who-inspired breakdown, then a '60s garage rock movement, then back to the dub style to start the whole process again, all the while tucking echoes, squeals and echoes into every nook and cranny. It's followed by Into the Twilight, a song that opens with whistling and off-kilter harmonizing before morphing into a funky oddity with a ton of vocal manipulation, a duel between White's squealing guitar and some chirping keys, and a pair of Manhattan Transfer samples for good measure. Oh, and a brief passage by William S. Burroughs, because do we really need a reason?
If it reads like there's a lot going on here, rest assured: there is, and we're only halfway through. Dusk is a brief reprieve (thirty seconds, to be exact) before we're plunged back into the fray with the stuttering riffage of What's the Trick?, a chest-thumping and percussive blast that perhaps hits harder than any other song on the record; Jack spits and barks (not literally like a dog, a point I feel I need to actually make clear) to the point his voice goes hoarse while his guitar grunts and screeches over skittering drums, engine noises and fuzzed-out bass (also: a pitch-shifted scream and some vocoder). That Was Then, This Is Now picks up the tempo, a rollicking glam-adjacent thrasher that features warbling organ, a shimmering mod-like chorus and a tasty breakdown that offers one of the album's most satisfying moments.
Suddenly, we're on the home stretch, with a reprise for Eosophobia that allows Jack to show off his admittedly formidable guitar heroism before settling back into its thick psych-rock groove; it doesn't add too much to the first part of the song that's drastically different or better, but it's not offensive. Likewise Morning, Noon and Night, which sounds more like a logical descendent of a White Stripes song than anything else here; if the keyboards were less processed and it didn't feature the mammoth classic rock outro it does, it could pass for a tune from the Get Behind Me Satan era. The album concludes with Shedding My Velvet, by far the most quiet and reflective song here (refreshingly so), featuring shimmering keys, immaculate guitar leads and a thick, groovy beat. It doesn't blow itself out to the same extent that the majority of the album does, and perhaps acts as a bridge to the more organic sound it feels like we're getting from Entering Heaven Alive in July.
There's certainly a lot to process here and, as difficult as it may be to believe, Jack White has more than doubled down on the gonzo tendencies that shocked and awed on Boarding House Reach. The biggest differences on Fear of the Dawn are its consistency and its full committal to the mission; whereas the previous record was happy to throw everything at the wall and hope something stuck, this time out there's a clear path to be forged, and a small army of guitars and effects to raze anything that stands in the way. It's easily the loudest and most incendiary project Jack White's ever put down and, thanks to its unshakable urge to pummel, it's equal parts thrilling and exhausting.
Still, Fear of the Dawn is a mostly successful experiment; even at its most bewildering, there's a sense of wonder at work here. It's as though Jack White went digging through his deep well of influences and came up with the intention to create a tidal wave of noise from it, grinning and grimacing in equal measure as he chokes his guitar and watches the countryside flood. It isn't likely to turn the skeptics into believers (not with these levels of difficulty and brute force), and it's miles away from what anyone pining for a return to his glory days was expecting, but Fear of the Dawn is at least a far sight more fun and offers much more incentive for repeat listens than Boarding House Reach.
April 8, 2022 • Third Man
Highlights Eosophobia • What's the Trick? • Shedding My Velvet
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