The Dead Weather, LIVE

To say I was looking forward to this show would be an extreme understatement.   Reveling in both Horehound and Sea of Cowards, and harboring a huge lady boner for Mz. Mosshart, obtaining tickets to The Dead Weather topped my priority list this summer. High expectations usually come with deep disappointment, and you wouldn’t be reading this if I didn’t have a few criticisms.  Sound issues vexed the performance with Mosshart’s vocals too low and the bass too loud.  Multitasking presented a challenge for Jack who struggled to simultaneously drum and sing, with the vocals suffering over the drumming (in case you were wondering).  At times they were sloppy and muddy sounding. Dean Fertita fucking rocked on lead guitar, with his clean, inventive, beautiful musicianship.  Alison looked a little thin.  Her choice of long sleeved shirt in the intense heat raised my eyebrow, but she growled, implored, screeched, and exquisitely harmonized, proving she’s as well-rounded a vocalist and frontwoman as you can find.  Her eye contact will improve when she harnesses her power and gains more confidence.  She and Jack shared a mic and a intimate moment on Will There Be Enough Water?, and Alison drew out an achingly gorgeous vulnerable quality she usually keeps under wraps.  Expect to see much more from her unless she falls prey to the cliched pitfalls of the lifestyle. The true glowing talent is Jack White.  His starshine undeniably illuminates the entire room.  The term genius should not be thrown around willy nilly, lest it lose its meaning, but here it truly applies. These musicians obviously inspire each other and love working together.  There is genuine, palpable affection among them.  Overall, a stellar rock show.