On The Break Up Of The White Stripes

Glorious Noise gained notoriety by becoming the first outlet to check the public records of a Michigan courthouse to dismantle any notion of Jack and Meg White’s sibling status. Instead, they showed readers that the two were actually husband and wife at one point-their bio sheet façade reduced to just another broken marriage.

It was a mutual love of rock and roll that kept them together. Think for a moment all of the bands that had an internal love connection and then think of how many of them managed to withstand the break-up.

Remember how shitty Heart got after the Wilson/Fisher relationship ended?

What about Jagger/Richards?

I saw the White Stripes once. It was a New Year’s Eve show in Chicago and I was with my ex-wife while thinking a lot about my current wife. It’s a long story, but the short of it is how the White Stripes have the dubious distinction of being the soundtrack to a break-up and the beginnings of a new relationship.

There are certain songs and bands that I still cannot listen to because it reminds me of my failed marriage. The White Stripes were not one of them. They were the epitome of rock and roll music, stripped to the bone of pretention and proving that the basic backbone of rock music could still find a viable place in an era where such huge musical statements like Kid A or The Soft Bulletin were the rule of the day.

And because of that primitivism, I cannot associate the basic building block of rock and roll with a period of depression.

Maybe they couldn’t either. The story goes that nobody was really sure if Meg would even show up for the first White Stripes gig after the divorce was final. And when she did show up at the last minute, it’s been said that it was one of the best shows of the band’s career.

The show that I saw was great-not revelatory like I was expecting-but an event nonetheless. There was the red and white color scheme. There was the positioning of the duo-the two ex-spouses parked directly in front of each other-where Meg barely took her eyes off Jack.

And then there was the recovery of White’s index finger-yes, a source of real concern that year-as we pondered if his guitar skills would be adequate after a car accident that broke his finger. He was fine as it turned out, ‘cept for a few bits of sloppy soloing and rushed chords.

I’m one who loved Meg’s playing too. The entire notion of a limited percussionist just appealed to me. It reminded me of R.L. Burnside who had some shaky rhythms behind him. The difference, of course, is that Meg was a chick drummer in a band that was visually stunning, drawing your attention into the duo and realizing that the drummer really isn’t doing much beyond keeping time.

My favorite albums are the early ones, but I appreciate how far they went with such a limited lineup. “Conquest” is my son’s favorite White Stripes song and my wife’s would probably be “Icky Thump” or “Seven Nation Army” because those were the ones that made it on to rock radio.

In that respect, maybe it was the best decision to call it a day. The White Stripes would ultimately be even farther removed from their dirty revival albums and become more of an opportunity to release a misstep.

Instead, they will be remembered fondly for their adhesion to the basic principles of rock music, the idea that you don’t need much to bang out a memorable racket. And if you’ve got some passion behind that racket and a great look to promote it, you may be able to reach the same heights that the White Stripes were able to achieve in their woefully short career.

White Stripes - Icky Thump

I’ve been listening to the new White Stripes album a lot lately and it seems to have made an impact with our four-year old. As we drove to daycare this morning, I turned on the CD player and heard E make a request from his car seat.
“Play Yucky Hump, Daddy.”
That’s four-year old speak for the Stripes’ great new album Icky Thump.
To be honest, I think I overrated their last effort, perhaps because it sounded like they were trying to expand their sound and continue with a creative progression. Today, particularly after hearing Icky Thump and Jack’s Raconteurs side-project from last year, it sounds more like he was feeling confined with the duo format and was trying anything to light a fire under him.
It appears that the time spent with The Raconteurs was the fire that he needed; Icky Thump sounds refreshed, vital, and true to the lineage that has made them one of America’s finest rock bands around.
It also sounds awesome, as in fidelity-wise; the album jumps out of the speakers and is full of dimension. The music is full of spectrum and depth and is one of the better sounding albums that I’ve heard in quite a while.
And Jack’s guitar tone has developed some personality as well. It fluctuates, suddenly, from a dirty vintage model to a trebly distorted freakout that’s as unique as some of those one-of-a-kind tones found on the Nuggets compilation.
After a while, the lack of versatility in his tone is kind of a hindrance; initially you’re drawn to it, only to feel like it’s overstaying its welcome after about the fourth time you’ve heard it. A wider selection of guitar tones would have been preferred, particularly after considering how many different genres that White touches upon throughout Icky Thump.
Thankfully, the album is sequenced in such a way that it actually feels like a proper album and, by design, those trainwrecks-of-a-styles seem tolerable and downright exciting.
After a few songs of incessant riffage, a cover of Patti Page’s “Conquest” appears with over-the-top mariachi horns that seem woefully out of place at first before you finally admit that it was a pretty clever maneuver. By the time Jack starts a guitar solo dual with the trumpet, it’s become one of your favorite tracks on the record.
As does the dumpster-diving anthem “Rag & Bone” which should bring a smile to anyone who’s ever lived in a college town (or any town that has a yearly city-wide clean up day) and remembers all of the slow moving vehicles eyeballing the mounds of discarded items piled up by the curb. It would always amaze me how small that mound got before the sanitation department came to take it away.
“The riff” is the common thread that holds Icky Thump together while also being the main point of infatuation. It’s a much better album than Get Behind Me Satan and one that rivals Elephant. The important thing for me is that it sounds like a move forward from those albums as well, which hopefully means that Jack White won’t feel constrained by the two-man format going forward. Even bands with double the line-up and similar inspirations (I’m looking at you Mooney Suzuki) would have a hard time coming up with an album as challenging, heavy, and fun as what Jack and Meg have managed with Icky Thump.