With his Edward Scissorhands-esque dexterity of digits (not to mention pallidness), the cult legend that is Jack White has finally blessed us with a solo album – Blunderbuss. Although it’d take a special ed. level of tone deafness to bypass recognizing the quality of The White Stripes, Raconteurs and even the lesser known Dead Weather, it’s fascinating to see what Mr. White (who ranks at number 70 on Rolling Stone’s 100 Best Guitarists list) sounds like undiluted. And although this new endeavor clearly and decidedly weaves a more solid stripe-free lyrical canvas, Jack White undoubtedly is still nothing short of a genius raconteur. ‘Sixteen Saltines’ is the second single released, instilled with all the points that make his sound as recognizable as his face. Sharp, shrewd and audacious, it’s difficult to find fault on any account. The lyrics, more so than ever, charmingly assume the role of any literary copy-editor’s worst nightmare – eccentrically intelligent, the man rouses beat poetry into holding hands with Shakespearean lyrical rambling (‘And Lord knows there’s a method to her madness, Bustin’ those jokes as I float in a sea of sadness’) while interludes of drum and guitar seizures attack what little silence remains. The title couldn’t illustrate this gameplay better – a blunderbuss is a muzzle-loading firearm with a short barrel and flaring muzzle to facilitate loading. A musical hostage situation – the elements of this song seem to be held together at gunpoint, and there’s something so guiltily electrifying about playing voyeur.