Blurring conventional lines has always been at the core of The Dead Weather.

Six years and now three records in, it’s been laughable, from a now-former distance, how the group has tested the vocabulary of music critics in a way that makes their analysis ineffectual and describing the sound an exercise in having good context.

What it really should be about it the initial, natural reaction created by something that exposes the bareness of one’s audio palate.

The alternative supergroup, made up of Alison Mosshart (The Kills) on vocals, Jack White (The White Stripes and The Raconteurs) on drums, Dean Fertita (Queens of the Stone Age) as the melody man on guitar and keys, and Jack Lawrence (The Raconteurs, The Greenhornes and City and Colour) on bass, has refined their range on Dodge and Burn to a form of contemporary electro grunge that begs for a Seattle punk club.

From the opening number, “I Feel Love (Every Million Miles)”, there’s a noticeable shift from the subtle garage-rock blues styling on 2010’s Sea of Cowards. The visuals for the track feature Mosshart on an abandoned street, pushing forward into punishing winds, but the unseen source with flashing red and blue lights keeps knocking her off her feet and back to the ground.

That concept seems kind of fitting in a way, because whatever innate response Dodge and Burn brings out, something seems to encourage the listen.
Mosshart’s vocals are black-hearted, but powerful, and her command is up to the task of making the record a true soundtrack to the revolution on “Let Me Through”.

The drum work from White is colored impressive by his ability to lay beats from distant genres that can mold to The Dead Weather’s persona, be it the hip-hop rolls of “Three Dollar Heat” or the jazzed out high-hats of “Rough Detective” — one of the few he trades vocals on. The former is received like the musical equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, and the latter like a “Spy vs. Spy” strip from Mad Magazine.

The group embraces their new age pedals and affects, and puts value in textured brushstrokes that can accent a collective sound. They’re the farthest thing from a throwback, and this edition of gothic rock has an undeniable personality that keeps the ‘next track’ urge at bay.