IT’S fair to say the CD cover for Sea Of Cowards gives a clue as to what lies within. Four masked human figures, depicting what appear to be a bird head, a guitar head, a wooden African art-head and, most tellingly, a faceless stag’s head, suggest the album could be suffused with voodoo guitar rock.

And so it proves – but, unfortunately, without enough voodoo magic.

The second album by The Dead Weather is a natural follow-on from the first, Horehound, released less than a year ago. Bluesy and gritty, but considerably darker and spookier than its predecessor, Sea Of Cowards is described as “robust and vigorous, filled with primal, bone-quaking rock rhythms and stellar urban blues”. Fair enough, but without sounding quite so verbose, it’s just not all that good.

The stomping opener, Blue Blood Blues, gets hopes up, but then it all fades away in a haze of the so-so average with no killer tracks, although penultimate song Jawbreaker does its best to reach out like a zombie and bite into your brain.

The bass loop saves Hustle And Cuss and I Can’t Hear You, and nearly does the same for I’m Mad, a song in which singer Alison Mosshart seems to try her damnedest to be a smokey, druggy, 1960s cool rock chick. And Jack White’s wonderful guitars give the album a piggy-back throughout.

But while the musicianship exudes gothic excellence, the actual tracks show that The Dead Weather are not only White’s third band after The White Stripes and The Raconteurs, but also his third-best band.