The musician’s second album in three months exists at a blurry intersection of inscrutability and openness.
Much of Jack White’s Fear of the Dawn finds the musician acting as a sort of mad scientist.
Messy, uneven, and at times unlistenable, the album’s sheer audacity makes it utterly intriguing.
Lazaretto is full of brash, forceful songs, further indulging the intense id formerly balanced by the White Stripes’ sweet-and-salty duality.
However enticing the movie itself may be, the commercialism of Baz Luhrmann’s The Great Gatsby has been oppressive, to say the least.
Here’s what we know: Awards shows have and always will be popularity contests.
White keeps us on our toes, thanks to magician-worthy stage surprises and to the consistent vitality of tunes both new and old.
Jack White embarks on tangential excursions that have familiar roots but end up in unexpected places.
Nicki Minaj isn’t taking any chances with the official lead single from her forthcoming sophomore album.
If you own the 2009 Blu-ray, and you’re happy with it, there’s no need to subsidize the present custodians of Miramax’s catalogue.
Jack and Meg have an intimate comfort with one another, and they argue and gently console each other as family does.
Davis Guggenheim eschews the grandstanding of rock ‘n’ roll hero worship by attempting to be specific about the artist and his or her craft.
The extras are disappointing, but you can’t really go wrong with Scorsese and the Stones.
Many of the images are indelible, catching subtle interactions between the band as well as epic gestures.
For a side project nearly an hour in length, Consolers of the Lonely is quite an accomplishment.
What the situation with the Raconteurs does is expose exactly where the machinery breaks down.
That’s right, it’s Lynn’s album, so we’ll try to keep the Jack White fawning to a minimum.