Frozen Charlotte

Jack White — 2026

“Frozen Charlotte is a smoldering grower that proves Jack White still knows exactly how to make a guitar lead the conversation.”

Jack White is not a man interested in slowing down. Frozen Charlotte is his seventh solo record and fourth in as many years, arriving from Third Man with the same live band that hammered the No Name tour into shape: Patrick Keeler on drums, Dominic Davis on bass, and Bobby Emmett on keys. That connection and experience show. Where No Name felt like a sprint, and clearly hit everyone with surprise, this one feels like a band leaning into that energy with more intention. What I like about that is Frozen Charlotte is all about showing generations what the guitar can still do when it drives a rock record with a hardcore streak of blues. Slide licks and fantastic runs crisscross these thirteen tracks, and White keeps the lyrics lean so the amps really do all the talking. When he barks “I got one rule, I don’t start nothing, nothing that I cannot finish” on “Derecho Demonico,” it lands like a poster statement for the whole album. And when he delivers his trademark Jack White sneer, “I’m a penny dreadful and a frozen Charlotte,” over a riff that keeps threatening to jump the rails, you remember why nobody else gets this tone out of a guitar.

“Raising the Grain” offers a woodworking metaphor, with White promising to “change turpentine into red wine” over a feverish stomp. The repeated “hey hey” callouts hit pain head-on instead of avoiding it. So many of these songs will slot straight into his electric live set, and you can tell that was the plan all along. No Name landed with such shock and pure rock-record nirvana that my only small fault with this album is that at times a few grooves may blur a little too much into each other before the finish. But even with those rare moments, this album still really hits hard, and I never reached for the skip button because Frozen Charlotte is a smoldering grower.

“G.O.D. And The Broken Ribs” opens the album with “Welcome to the Garden of Eden” and a microphone check, and the way those pulsing chords stack under White’s dirty falsetto harmonies makes it an instant setlist staple. “Dollar Bill” works the opposite angle, a swampy chant that turns “a penny, and a nickel, and a dime” into a hypnotic loop, before going on the offensive with “you can’t control me unless you owe me.” I also really liked “She’s In A Frenzy,” the sneaky highlight that arrives near the end of the album. White calls his subject “a tempest in a coffee cup” while his slide work churns underneath, always sounding like it could go over the edge.

Jack is such a unique talent, but I would always direct someone to Ty Segall as he has plenty of guitar first records. Jon Spencer has a similar boisterous frontman delivery, and he has spent decades proving the blues can be a punk weapon. I think at times earlier Black Keys can fit this description, and even Osees can let riff after riff go nuts but never lose a listener.

White sounds like he built this record for the stage, and you can practically see any track here in the setlist. Somewhere a kid will hear this album and pick up a guitar, which is probably the whole point.