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emphasizing the power-duo force of their
early records amid the riffing storm in “Eagle
Birds” and “Go.” The effect is like 2003’s
Thickfreakness, in higher fidelity.
The Raconteurs — White, Benson, bassist
Jack Lawrence and drummer Patrick Keeler
— bust into their first studio album in 11 years
like a street gang itching for battle, rapidly
building to the power-chord fanfare and
shiny vocal chrome in “Bored and Razed.”
The buzzing-bee tone of the main guitar lick
recalls White’s attack mode in the White
Stripes, but the Raconteurs are at once denser
and more agile. Benson’s broad instrumental
role and straighter, richer singing — next to
White’s high-pitched agitation — add a stack
of dynamics here: the synth-lined shadows of
“Only Child”; the android-choir harmonies
in “Sunday Driver,” like the Beatles imitating
Kraftwerk; the Sixties-R&B melodrama in
“Now That You’re Gone.” Lawrence and
Keeler swing between brawny funk, slicing
strut and, in “Don’t Bother Me,” high, straight
speed like a runaway Grand Funk Railroad.
“Let’s Rock” is in the emotional tradi-
tion of most Sixties garage rock: the singer
having a bummer, the band making noise
to raise him up. “You get low like a valley/
Then high like a bird in the sky,” Auerbach
sings in “Lo/Hi,” certifying the extremes in
a wrenching soprano-fuzz guitar break. His
plaintive vocals are often closer to country
soul, haunted by betrayal and the slippery
slope of commitment in “Tell Me Lies” and
“Breaking Down,” the latter lined with electric
sitar, like a 1969 Elvis Presley session. But in
Carney’s drumming, Auerbach has the perfect
anchor and drive for his freak-rock twang
and moral punch. “Every Little Thing” opens
like a spasm of lead-guitar nerves from Led
Zeppelin II, then drops to something darker,
the Black Keys holding their gunpowder until
the chorus: “Every little thing that you do/
Is always gonna come back to you.”
The chattering classes will no doubt whip
up some blood-rival gossip to explain the
near-simultaneous release of these albums.
Help Us Stranger and “Let’s Rock” are simply
great records from very different bands
coming from the same ideals: Rock is a living
thing, and guitars can be your best friends in
the war on jive.
BLACK KEYS / RACONTEURSM
ARK RONSON
branded himself a
nostalgia alchemist
as a producer for Amy Wine-
house’s landmark LPs, updat-
ing midcentury R&B with a
rare-groove-fanatic’s ear for
detail. Where superproducers
like Diplo might make ser-
viceable magic with anyone,Ronson’s classicism gener-
ally requires the wearer to
animate it. Winehouse was an
ideal match — as was Bruno
Mars, whose Prince homage
“Uptown Funk” proved how
lucrative Ronson’s science
could be.
Late Night Feelings is a
sort of feminine inverse ofnight of clubbing. If there’s
a problem, it’s songwriting
and processed vocals that can
feel anonymous; boldfaced
names lost in string arrange-
ments, pillowy reverb and
period simulacra in a way
the singers on Daft Punk’s
like-minded Random Access
Memories managed to avoid.
“Late Night Feelings” sug-
gests a bottle-service club
jam from the moment when
late- Seventies disco opulence
pivoted into the Eighties
freestyle R&B that birthed
Madonna; Lykke Li delivers
it impeccably and unobtru-
sively (she ups the soul factor
on “2 AM,” a hazy booty-call
blues). “Find U Again” sees
Tame Impala’s Kevin Parker
raining glitter over a crushed-
out Camila Cabello, who
raps about doing therapy “at
least twice a week” to get
over it. You wish her well, but
may find it hard to recall a
minute later.
The lesser-knowns shine
hardest. Arkansas church
belter Yebba launches “Don’t
Leave Me Lonely” over a
sumptuous house groove you
might wish was double its
3:36 length. Diana Gordon
brings the silk-sheet soul on
“Why Hide” with a dubby
ache recalling the XX, fitting
since that group’s Romy Mad-
ley Croft co-wrote it. Best is
“Truth,” delivered by the Last
Artful, Dodgr (a.k.a. Portland
rapper Alana Chenevert) over
gnarly saw-toothed bass, with
Alicia Keys “educatin’ ” and
“elevatin’ ” on the hook à la
some great, lost Sly and the
Family Stone single.
Honorable mention goes
to up-and-coming country
singer Miley Cyrus, who
conjures her godmother,
Dolly Parton, on “Nothing
Breaks Like a Heart,” a
trotting mix of “Jolene,” “I
Will Always Love You” and
“9 to 5,” perfectly positioned
for the post-“Old Town Road”
gold rush. It shows how
Ronson’s precision- tooled
nostalgia is always somehow
right on time.Ronson’s 2015 LP, Uptown
Special, the latter’s dude ros-
ter swapped for a compelling
mix of women, its brittle
chromed funk replaced with
a plush, dubby quiet-storm
vibe. It’s a better album
— rangy, sexy and fairly
seamless, a record to play
all the way through after aRONSON’S LATE-NIGHT VIBES
The producer teams up with Miley Cyrus, Alicia
Keys and others for a chill LP By WILL HERMESMark Ronson
Late Night Feelings
Sony
#+++++Classic | ++++Excellent | +++Good | ++Fair | +Poor RATINGS ARE SUPERVISED BY THE EDITORS OF ROLLING STONE.Faye Webster’s Southern Discomfort
DECKED OUT IN AN ATLANTA BRAVES JERSEY, with her auburn hair tucked under a visor,
Faye Webster cuts a distinct figure for an indie-folk singer-songwriter. Her music breaks
molds too. She released her debut on an Atlanta hip-hop label, and her excellent second
LP, Atlanta Millionaires Club, combines bedroom folk, forlorn country and modern R&B.
On “Pigeon,” steel guitar wraps around a beat reminiscent of TLC’s “Waterfalls,” and on the
standout “Room Temperature,” she desperately whimpers “I should get out more” over and
over against a silken melody. Bummer? Maybe. Alluring? Absolutely. ANGIE MARTOCCIOBREAKING