Frozen Charlotte

<b>No one combines the epic and the intimate with more skill and style.</b> Jack White’s seventh solo studio album begins with a warm welcome. Over fuzzy guitars and shuffling drums, <i>Frozen Charlotte</i>’s opener, <b>“G.O.D. and the Broken Ribs”,</b> kicks off with a glowing embrace. “Welcome to the Garden of Eden,” White teases. “There’s nobody here but me and you.” It’s a swaggering, stripped-down cut built around the rock icon’s inimitable guitar tone, divine ability to conjure hooks from thin air and effortless charisma. It’s a bountiful affair that sets the stakes for <i>Frozen Charlotte</i>, an album in which White tries to echo those opening lyrics: “There’s nobody here but me and you.” For almost two decades, White has tried his best to streamline the music production process to exist entirely within his own operational capacities in Nashville. Following the back-to-basics template of 2024’s <i>No Name</i>, the result is an album both epic in scope and intimate in nature. It sounds almost conversational, as if White is hosting a small concert at the official Third Man Records venue. The music is loud, yet refined and precise. Songs like <b>“You’ll Never Fix Me”</b> are noisy and freewheeling, but White is always in control. Few can wield their POV across an album quite like he does. Remarkably, almost three decades into his career upon the release of <i>Frozen Charlotte</i>, that style is only becoming clearer. <b>Our Favourite Track</b>: Album closer <b>“Neighbors Blues”</b> features an instantly iconic guitar solo and joins White’s pantheon of songs that imagine what Led Zeppelin might have sounded like as a scrappy bar band.