The Dead Weather

Pretty much anything Jack White touches turns to musical gold. And he proved just that when he took to the stage with his new band, The Dead Weather, last night at the Bowery Ballroom in New York in front of an over-capacity crowd anxious to hear his latest offering.

Of course, we know him best as the brains behind the White Stripes, and then there’s his “other band” the Raconteurs, and now his “other, other band,” where he resumes drumming after a long hiatus, and gives Alison Mosshart of the Kills frontgal status.

And the formula works. White pummeled on the drums, while Dean Fertita of the Queens of the Stone Age took over guitar duties and Raconteur Jack Lawrence manned the keyboards and bass, and Mosshart slinked around, delivering her signature dark lyrics in raspy moans and wails.

The band plowed through their set, they only have one album after all, with Alison often turning her back to the audience to face her main man on drums and sing directly to him, and with him, on the many his-her vocals and harmonies. She puffed on cigarettes and whipped her long black mane around, with one leg propped up on the amp Courntey Love style.

Toward the end, White moved to the forefront to grace the audience with his guitar prowess. Keep in mind people are used to seeing this guy at venues the size of Radio City, so this was quite a treat, even to the industry-heavy crowd. White tore through a solo while the audience -- which included the Yeah Yeah Yeahs Karen O and -- lapped it up, before breaking a string and having to abort the song early.

But the band went out on a double high for their encore, first with a sexy version of their blues-rock single “Hang You From the Heavens”

and then with a nearly unrecognizable cover of Bob Dylan’s “New Pony” that may have sounded familiar to the audience, but left most of them scratching their heads trying to place it.

As Ferita propped his guitar by his amp and turned it up to 11, sending feedback bouncing off the venue walls, the band made their polite bows. White put up his hand with a modest thank you and managed to leave even the most jaded New York music snobs wanting more.