The Raconteurs' - like life, movies - disappoint

Low expectations are essential to successfully navigating these choppy rapids we call life.

That’s my philosophy, anyway. I realize it’s not exactly a profound belief, but I find it’s practical and generally serves me well. Yet, if I were a character in a popular movie then the climax of the film would inevitably be my realization that I am wrong. This is because America seems to thrive on false optimism.

Case in point, the debut album by The Raconteurs. I was suckered this time. I let my guard down. A few months ago, somehow the rumor was started that “Broken Boy Soldiers” would be this generation’s answer to “Nevermind.” I bought into the hype because I wanted it to be true.

The Raconteurs are Jack White of The White Stripes, gifted singer/songwriter Brendan Benson and some guys from the retro guitar-pop outfit The Greenhornes. On paper, it seemed like the project had the potential to be as good as the hype. I envisioned White’s guitar-on-steroids riffage to be the chassis on which Benson would build his power pop mini-suites. Unfortunately, instead of getting the best of both worlds, “Broken Boy Soldiers” is a dilution of both White and Benson’s gifts instead of the perfect synthesis I was hoping for.

This is not to say The Raconteurs’ first album is terrible. At only 10 songs and 34 minutes, it’s a spare, solid album ... which sounds like damning praise, but had my expectations not been so high, I probably would have been pleasantly surprised by this ’70s rock throwback (check out the classic rock backward vocals on the stale, arena ballad “Blue Veins.”).

The album is at its best when it gives in to its weirder tendencies. The aggressive keyboard bleating that accompanies the opening riff and drum attack of “Store Bought Bones” is great, as is the insane guitar solo about halfway through, and the Eastern-influence (by way of the obvious ’70s rock influence) of the title track makes for one of the best songs on the album. Furthermore, “Intimate Secretary” and first single “Steady as She Goes” are solid, but the album lags when it dips more into Benson’s pop territory, partly because none of those songs sound as interesting as Benson’s solo work.

I almost get the feeling that there is a tension between White, the only superstar in the group, and Benson, who deserves more of a following than he has and knows it. Sometimes the dueling vocals between the two is a bit jarring. Jack White has a creepy, tamed-banshee wail even at his most subdued, while Benson has more of a sensitive, California sun-kissed croon. The result is like a James Taylor and Robert Plant duet, which sounds more interesting that it actually is.

The lesson is, as the above parable attests, low expectations are key to sucking out any enjoyment from life.

But if “Superman Returns” isn’t the greatest movie I’ve ever seen, I’m killing myself.

Jeremiah Tucker is a freelance writer whose blog , Everyday Dude, appears on www.joplinglobe.com