Less than a year ago I watched The Dead Weather - a supergroup made up of the infamous Jack White (who can do NO wrong in my book), Alison Mosshart of The Kills, Dean Fertita of Queens of the Stone Age, and Jack Lawrence of The Raconteurs - rock the pants off the audience at Late Night With Jimmy Fallon. Though I had heard of the band and was ultimately pumped about a new project from my favorite Jack White, this was the first time I actually heard the band. I fell in love. If only more musicians could rock so hard.
My favorite part about what I saw during that performance was Mosshart. She is my definition of fucking cool. Dressed like a bad ass in black skinny jeans and killer boots, dark hair falling in her face, her body swaying to the beat of JACK WHITE'S DRUMS as she lets the lyrics fly with attitude equal to that of White's Edward Scissorhand-like hairdo. Awesome? No. Fucking awesome. I love a good leading lady.
White has met his female counterpart in Alison Mosshart. The Kills are cool, don't get me wrong, but Mosshart was meant to be Jack's muse. I love that he trusts in her enough to place her front and center, to give her the microphone. She's in control and I love it. Her voice was meant to sound like this. Her hair was meant to cover her face in a sweaty tangled mass. She was born to live off a diet of chain smoking and booze, born to stand beside Jack White and follow him into the darkness.
That seems to be just what she and the rest of the band-mates are doing. What started by accident - when Mosshart filled in for White who lost his voice during a Raconteurs concert - has become a serious project with no end in sight. With a sound more hardcore than anything the White Stripes or Raconteurs stirred up, the Dead Weather is on a path of rock and roll destruction, blowing the pants off concertgoers worldwide.
Their follow-up album to Horehound hits stores in May, only nine months after the band's debut. Who's excited? Tighten your belt. Here's a preview: