The Raconteurs, Northumbria University, Newcastle <!-- none onestar twostar threestar fivestar -->

Get behind me, Jack White

Few bands play the clichéd cards of rock mythology with quite as much panache as The Raconteurs. Part James Gang, part Led Zeppelin and a whole lot of Lynyrd Skynyrd, they embody the very essence of rock'n'roll outsiderdom. They are the archetypal last gang in town.

At least, that's what they want you to think. It's an exercise in myth-making that starts with the collection of Morricone spaghetti-western themes that introduces their show, and continues throughout the hour-long set of subverted, heads-down Deep South boogie. It's very much a case of a tale well told being recounted once more. Not for nothing do they travel under the collective name of The Raconteurs.

Except, like all good stories, it's all an illusion. The real tale being told tonight is of Jack White and what he does when he's not conquering the world with his A-list indie-gone-bluegrass day job as one half of The White Stripes.

The Raconteurs are, of course, that most dreaded of rock'n'roll beasts, the downtime side project - for which the star gets the opportunity to let his (or her) hair down and pretend to be anonymous for a short while. Think Traveling Wilburys or Tin Machine - stop-gap musical diversions that the fans tolerate rather than actually enjoy.

The Raconteurs, then, are on paper merely a busman's holiday for White and his old friends Jack Lawrence and Patrick Keeler (from the former White Stripes tour support The Greenhornes) and the greatest songwriter you've never heard of, Brendan Benson - a veritable indie supergroup that might seem predestined for the bargain bin marked "Side-Project Follies".

Not that this concerns the Stripes fans who eagerly guard their frantically fought-for positions pressed up against the stage barrier just for the chance to get close to their hero Mr White. What follows, however, is far from amounting to a display of egomania from the Stripes man. The whole set-up is very much a democratic arrangement, with vocal duties being shared between Benson, White and Lawrence.

So the fanatical cheers quickly give way to muted applause as Benson introduces, and proceeds to take up main vocal duties on, the Free-style opener "Level" from the band's forthcoming album Broken Boy Soldier. "Intimate Secretary" follows, with main vocals courtesy of Lawrence.

Meanwhile, White stands, back to the audience, very much out of the spotlight before eventually wandering forward to sing occasional back-up vocals or deliver some insane Neil Young-style guitar histrionics. The point is made, though; despite proving beyond any doubt that he's a rare talent on guitar, The Jack White Show this certainly ain't.

What follows is a full-blown homage to the band's blues-rock heroes as guitars duel, drums solo and riffs thunder. Indeed, so many influences are worn on The Raconteurs' collective sleeve that you can almost hear the sound of music lawyers sharpening their lawsuits.

Despite the often-disconcerting musical references (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Steppenwolf and The Eagles among them), The Raconteurs are a revelation. Freed from the limitations of their individual bands, they are able to push otherwise-suppressed ideas to a cartoon-esque extreme.

Jack White himself may not be the most convincing rocker of all time (he pixie-skips rather than rocks out) and the rest are more garage-band geeks than acid-rocker freaks, but tonight they achieve the unimaginable - a sum that is considerably greater than its parts. How often do you get to say that about a side project? It's a feeling shared by the initially unsure crowd, who greet the blues-drenched finale of "Blue Veins" with a hands-in-the-air euphoria.