The Raconteurs
– Help Us Stranger
Jack White and Brendan Benson don’t return to the garage—they raze the whole block and rebuild with weird wiring and vintage wood. Help Us Stranger, their first album in over a decade, doesn’t scream comeback. It mutters, stomps, winks, and occasionally spits. There’s no grand reinvention here, but there’s no sleepwalking either. It’s a record made by lifers—two guys who know rock’s DNA well enough to scribble in the margins without tearing up the pages.
Best of…
White, ever the cryptic shaman, throws riddles and razor riffs like darts. Benson balances him out, offering melody and structure when the ship threatens to tip into chaos. It’s that push-pull—the bratty and the beautiful—that gives Help Us Stranger its bite. The band is tight as a clenched jaw, with Jack Lawrence and Patrick Keeler locking into grooves that feel both old-school and slightly off-kilter. This is classic rock filtered through cracked analog glass.
If the songs sometimes feel like they’ve been beamed in from different decades, that’s by design. There’s no genre purity here—power pop gets into a bar fight with garage psych, soul shows up in a three-piece suit, and blues limps in with broken teeth. But it works. The record doesn’t chase relevance. It shrugs, plugs in, and plays loud. In a rock landscape allergic to risk, Help Us Stranger isn’t afraid to get weird, get dirty, and, most importantly, get fun again.
Choice Tracks
Bored and Razed
A slingshot opener. Jack White’s guitar rips like it’s chewing through denim, and the vocal trade-offs are a punchy reminder of why this duo works. Raw, loose, and grinning like a maniac.
Help Me Stranger
Catchy without being cute. That warped acoustic strum and slithering electric slide are the glue here. Benson’s knack for melody gives the chaos a heartbeat.
Only Child
Sounds like a lost ‘70s AM radio gem with a razor hidden in the chorus. Benson’s lyrics hit a little harder here—wistful, bruised, quietly biting.
Sunday Driver
White unhinged. Fuzzy riffs, call-and-response madness, and a tempo that feels like it’s speeding through yellow lights. It’s cocky in the best way.
Now That You’re Gone
A snarling little revenge blues. Slower, dirtier, with a slouch in its walk. White’s vocal here is less singer, more villain in a dusty Western.
Shine the Light on Me
A left-turn gospel lullaby with a heartbeat of piano and light. It’s gentle, soulful, and just strange enough to keep your eyebrows raised.
Live a Lie
Barely two minutes and mean as hell. It crashes in, throws its elbows, and leaves a dent. Punk energy, garage filth, no filler.