His body of work, from the crude gruntings of the White Stripes, to the iron fisted hard rockpop of the Raconteurs, to the dark, funk-bent, summonings of the Dead Weather, to the deranged, rock country delirium of his work with Wanda Jackson clearly delineate this desperation, and make him the most exciting thing to hit rock and roll since…well, geez, since Kurt Cobain and Nirvana, maybe.
Awhile back I started listening to the White Stripes stuff—everyone knows “Seven Nation Army,” but “Ball and Biscuit” really grabbed me—and also checked out “It Might Get Loud.” Going through this first set of stuff, I felt right away that he was the only guitar player since Jimi Hendrix to sound like a man possessed. Around Thanksgiving, however, I picked up several other records—the 2 Raconteurs albums, the 2 Dead Weather albums, and the Wanda Jackson album he produced—and have been powerless against the desire to pound them into my eardrums for the last several weeks. Each one of them is a merciless assault on the senses, and a vicious testament to Senor White’s commitment to getting the most possible rock and roll out of his bargain with the Devil.
The White Stripes were a fun and elegant return to the most basic elements of rock and roll: desperate, savage, abuse of the electric guitar, primeval, pheromonal lyrical conjuring, crude, rhythmic pounding. Not surprisingly, though, the Stripes were not a palette commensurate with the vision Jack had when he signed his 12 a.m. pact.
Several years before cutting Meg White loose (I think he became tired of her woefully inadequate drumming), he was itchy. The Raconteurs, whose first record was released in 2006-- 5 years before the Stripes were formally disbanded in 2011-- were a huge step forward from the Stripes rock and roll minimalism. The Racs records pack all the heavy guitar crunch whallop and blues traditionalism of the Stripes, but also incorporate more complicated harmonies, chord changes, song structures, and lyrical themes, at times evoking the Beatles, Queen, the Who, and many other rock and roll and American cultural strands in arresting ways.
By this time, Jack White was an established guitar hero, singer-songwriter, roots-rock revivalist, and tireless road warrior and so his next step was: to become the drummer of a new band. The Dead Weather records—one released shortly before and one released shortly after the “official” end of the White Stripes— cast an even wider net, adding funk-descended grooves and electronic sounds as well as dark lyrical imagery voiced by a powerful female persona on top of heavy guitar and bass riffs driven by primeval beats laid down by Mr. White’s merciless skin slammings. Not content to ride write, play guitar, and tour, Jack White established himself as a VERY heavy duty drummer, capable of laying down shaking grooves, complex beats, and heavy thunder (and would you wanna play guitar in a band with Jack as the drummer—YIKES! Dean Fertita has guts galore, as well as a fistful of chops). Both the Racs and the Dead Weather records leave you gasping for air in the most wonderful way.
In 2011, Jack White produced a record by Wanda Jackson—a longtime country crooner and heartthrob, 73 or 74 years old at the time of the album’s release. The record explodes out of the speakers, with teeth shaking drum rhythms, mortar crumbling horn shrieks, and towering walls of guitar sound all serving Jackson’s skin-ripping vocals. The record is an electrifying conversation between old and new, country and rock and roll musicians and idioms, displaying reverence and respect and affection for Jackson’s musical history while also dynamiting country music conventions and the walls separating genres. Get it and play it LOUD.
More recently, White has assembled a touring entourage encompassing 2 bands—one all male (Los Buzzardos) and one all female (The Peacocks). The bands present songs from the vast Jack White catalogue (White Stripes, Racs, Dead Weather, solo work) and even some covers (they knock the hell out of Hank Williams’s “You Know That I Know”) in mix-and-match format night to night. The 2 band, cross-gender format, along with his work with Wanda Jackson, and Alison Mosshart in the Dead Weather, display not only White’s relentless resolve to fight artistic stagnation and genre pigeonholing, but also his commitment to rock and roll feminism and gender equality. Women are not there to “break up the ugly onstage” or provide some pretty voices to counterbalance the rock and roll sledgehammering going on, but are equal and full partners in the barrage.
This guy is the real deal—a man gifted (perhaps by way of a Midnight Deal at the Crossroads) with the ability to channel the most powerful and diverse forces in the Great Musical River in tireless pursuit of great rock and roll. Is there anyone having more fun in this world than Jack White? I don’t think so. Get on the train and join him for a joyous ride.
