Fear Of The Dawn
by Jack White

Review
**Fear Of The Dawn - Jack White ★★★★☆**
Jack White has always been rock's most restless alchemist, a man who treats electricity like a medieval blacksmith treats molten metal – with reverence, violence, and an almost supernatural understanding of its transformative power. With *Fear Of The Dawn*, the Detroit wizard delivers his most unhinged and exhilarating statement yet, a sonic assault that sounds like it was recorded in a bunker during an apocalyptic thunderstorm.
The album arrives as the first half of White's ambitious double-header project, with its companion piece *Entering Heaven Alive* following mere months later. Where the latter explores his gentler, more contemplative side, *Fear Of The Dawn* is pure id unleashed – a primal scream that channels everything from garage rock primitivism to hip-hop swagger, all filtered through White's singular vision of what rock and roll should sound like in 2022.
From the moment "Taking Me Back" erupts with its stuttering drum machine and White's voice pitched somewhere between Little Richard and a malfunctioning robot, it's clear this isn't going to be a polite affair. The track serves as both mission statement and warning shot, with White declaring his intentions over a groove that sounds like Prince jamming with Death From Above 1979 in a Detroit basement. It's audacious, slightly ridiculous, and absolutely irresistible.
The title track that follows is even more unhinged, a seven-minute odyssey that begins with ominous synth drones before exploding into a riff that could level buildings. White's guitar tone here is particularly vicious – all fuzz and fury, processed through what sounds like a combination of vintage fuzz boxes and modern digital manipulation. His vocals alternate between whispered confessions and full-throated howls, creating a sense of genuine unease that few contemporary rock records manage to achieve.
"Hi-De-Ho" featuring Q-Tip finds White at his most playful and experimental, marrying his garage rock sensibilities with genuine hip-hop production techniques. The collaboration works because both artists understand the fundamental power of rhythm and repetition, creating something that feels both nostalgic and futuristic. Q-Tip's verses slide effortlessly over White's angular guitar work, proving that genre boundaries are just suggestions when the chemistry is right.
The album's secret weapon might be "Eosophobia," a track that builds from ambient beginnings into a full-scale sonic assault. White layers guitars like a man possessed, creating walls of sound that recall both his White Stripes work and his more recent explorations into electronic music. The song's title – referring to the fear of dawn – perfectly captures the album's overall mood of apocalyptic dread mixed with manic energy.
"What's The Trick?" strips things back to basics, featuring just White, his guitar, and a drum machine that sounds like it's been fed a steady diet of Detroit techno and early hip-hop. It's minimalist in the best possible way, proving that White's songwriting remains sharp even when surrounded by his most adventurous production choices.
The album's production, handled by White himself, is deliberately abrasive and confrontational. Drums hit like gunshots, guitars screech and howl like wounded animals, and White's voice is often processed beyond easy recognition. It's the sound of an artist who's completely comfortable with making his audience work for their pleasure, demanding active engagement rather than passive consumption.
*Fear Of The Dawn* stands as perhaps White's most cohesive solo statement, a record that successfully balances his various obsessions – vintage equipment fetishism, genre-hopping adventurism, and an almost punk rock commitment to doing whatever feels right in the moment. It's an album that rewards repeated listening, revealing new details and connections with each encounter.
In the context of White's broader catalog, *Fear Of The Dawn* feels like a necessary exorcism – a purging of all his most aggressive and experimental impulses before the more reflective *Entering Heaven Alive*. It's White at his most uncompromising, creating music that sounds like nothing else in contemporary rock while still feeling unmistakably like the work of a master craftsman.
This is essential listening for anyone who believes rock and roll should still have the power to genuinely surprise and occasionally terrify its listeners.
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