What's sort of sad about it is that Spencer seems like he's doing the best he can: He brags about chewing a big wad of Bazooka on "Hold On," but can't produce a groove chewy enough to back it up; he appropriates '50s B-movie rebel-as-werewolf shtick on "Killer Wolf" (and in the album's packaging) but sounds like your dad reliving old glories; "She Said" actually arranges itself into a melody but then just sort of hangs there. Compare that with Jack White's ability to tell a young man's story that sounds 80 years old, or Julian Casablancas' maddeningly casual way with a mike stand, and Spencer starts to look like the bluesman that time forgot. Not quite fair for someone who's paid his dues and made the water safe for the next generation, to be sure. But don't forget that Spencer's the same guy who once covered Exile on Main Street and made it sound like a black hole wired to a demolished Marshall half-stack--even originators occasionally feel the sting of poetic justice.