In a league of his own

Then there’s the show itself, which, for a fledgling solo artist, usually mixes tentatively played new material with a liberal dose of classics, ensuring that the audience goes home happy. But there is nothing tentative or ­apologetic about the way White approaches his new songs on stage, and there’s a good chance you may not immediately recognise the White Stripes, Raconteurs and Dead Weather tracks he throws in, such is the extent of the reinvention they undergo.

The new songs veer from the soulful to the brutal with ease, while, sonically, White finds enough room to cover rough and ready garage rock, honky-tonk stomps and countrified piano ballads. As fans in Britain will see this month, his hap­hazard methods are even more exciting when witnessed live, because each show is loaded with possibilities. The over­riding feeling at a Jack White gig is that just about anything can happen — and that, once it has, you may never see it again.

“I would just never want to see a big solo artist play an arena with five no-name musicians who nobody cares about, doing the songs exactly like they are on the album, with a light show and a big finish,” he says. “I’d rather see something that looks like it could fall apart at any moment.”

There is a certain irony here, in that, for all White’s efforts to escape rock’n’roll’s clichés, Blunderbuss seems to find him chewing on the oldest chestnut of all: that of the artist wounded in love and spilling his guts into his work. Many of the songs hint strongly at torrid relationships, errant femmes fatales and sexual politics, and his divorce last year from the British model Karen Elson seems his obvious inspiration. The fact that this is his first album under his own name serves only to strengthen that autobiographical association. It’s not something he has the temerity to deny outright, but he is eager to prevent ­Blunderbuss being held up only as a break-up album. “Karen and I think that stuff is funny,” he says. They ended their marriage in cordial circumstances by throwing a party, and are still close enough for Elson to sing backing vocals on three Blunderbuss songs.

“When I hear someone like Eminem talking about his wife or his mum, saying their actual names and ripping them to shreds for millions of people to join in...” He shakes his head. “I could write a song about someone who’s really hurt me — I know it’s about them and they know it, too. But to do it in a way that’s so obvious, and in a way that makes the listener become enemies with them, that’s pretty unfair. The written word is ­powerful. You can destroy someone with a pen.”

A by-product of Blunderbuss is a small but vocal critical backlash that takes issue with White’s perceived misogyny. Again, he doesn’t pretend to be sideswiped by any of this. The blues has always used the allure of women and the emotional — sometimes even physical — ­dangers associated with this as a central theme, and, as we all know, the blues is something White has always been partial to. As before, though, his defence revolves around his distaste for literal interpretations of lines about femmes fatales in heels stabbing holes in lifeboats (Sixteen Saltines) or seemingly crass vamps obsessed with modern gadgetry at the expense of “guilt or morals” (Freedom at 21).

“In a way, I thought we got past this kind of thing 50 years ago, but, then again, you look around and you still see people taking the Bible literally. If we’re comparing these accusations of misogyny with my personal life, I’ve worked with so many women. I think I’m what a ­psychiatrist would call an ­‘enabler’. I want to help people I think are victimised, ­artists who would be amazing if they had the right tools in front of them. You should go ask ­artists like Loretta Lynn, Alison Mosshart, even Meg White about that.”

He does have a point with that last example. The musically based jibes aimed at his fellow White Stripe’s ability behind a drum kit often felt like thinly veiled sexism. It was especially the case when the duo were cata­pulted out of the open-minded bubble of the indie world and exposed to rock fans, who still look at women in bands with a patronising sense of ­novelty. White stuck resolutely with his bandmate — and, with hindsight, it is impossible to imagine that the White Stripes would have worked as well without the visual and musical contrast Meg provided.

It’s certainly true to say that White’s approach to sexual politics is a complicated one, but it’s also one that has fuelled most recorded rock music. Although parts of Blunderbuss seem to cast a suspicious eye over uncon­trollable temptresses, White is not in the business of treating women like commo­dities or sex objects. And no amount of political correctness can hide the fact that rock remains a macho world.

“You still hear musicians saying things like, ‘If anyone tells you they’re not in this game to get laid, they’re f***ing lying.’ Well, then, I’m lying. The term ‘rock star’ has become so gross and emba­r­rassing. It’s almost become a word for...” He trails off and shifts uncomfortably. “Partying. I wouldn’t want it anywhere near my tombstone.”

An insecure musician? Again, White takes a flame-thrower to one cliché and finds himself unwittingly hemmed in by another. Hard as he tries, it seems the limited language of rock’n’roll will always entrap him. But it’s thrilling to hear him try to break out.

Jack White plays Brixton Academy, SW9, on June 21, Hammersmith Apollo, W6, on June 22, and Radio 1’s Hackney Weekend on June 23. Blunderbuss is out now on XL Recordings

The great break-up albums

BOB DYLAN Blood on the Tracks (1975) Dylan claims this confessional record has nothing to do with his separation from Sara Dylan. Sure, Bob. Not even the particularly poignant If You See Her, Say Hello? Key lyric: “You’re an idiot, babe.”

MARVIN GAYE Here, My Dear (1978) Faced with alimony for Anna Gordy, a broke Gaye agreed to give her royalties from this bitter, cheeky divorce album. Key lyric: “When you say your marriage vows, they’re supposed to be for real.”

SPIRITUALIZED Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space (1997) When the keyboard player Kate Radley dumped Jason Pierce, the singer was put out. Hence this orchestral wallow. Key lyric: “Lord, I have a broken heart.”

BECK Sea Change (2002) Beck’s gorgeous lament over his break-up with a cheating Leigh Limon remains the polymath’s finest work. Key lyric: “Baby, you’re a lost cause.”

EELS End Times (2010) The singer E’s dissection of a relationship makes 1998’s Electro-Shock Blues — which is about cancer — sound peppy. Key lyric: “The world is ending and what do I care?” Jonathan Dean