Tag Archives: Jack White

concert commandments

I’ve been attending my fair share of live shows lately, and that means I’ve been annoyed by all the douchebag behavior of the general public.  Let’s review the basic commandments of concert-going, shall we?Thou shalt not wear a band t-shirt to that band’s concert.  We already know you are a fan.  You bought a ticket.  Attendant commandments include:  I shall not blast the performing band from my car stereo while waiting in gridlock in the parking lot of the concert venue, and under no circumstances will I emulate the dress of the performers like a pathetic, dorky lemming.  All you dress-alike Jack White fans looked like Mennonites.  I shall respect my fellow concert goers and not place the world’s largest tarp on the ground in general admission in an attempt to save room for my six late-arriving friends.  Conversely, thou shalt not dip in the show after the curtain drops and expect to shove thy way to the front.  Early birds get the good seats.  Late arrivals expect to compromise on proximity to the stage or encounter intense wrath from the long-suffering and dedicated early birds.  If your late ass wants a view, spring for the expensive assigned seating. I shall further respect my co-fans by actually watching the performance rather than spending the whole show with my back to the stage trying to get high.  But on that note…

Thou shalt share thy bud.

Thou shalt resist the temptation to sing along to every song regardless if thy know all the words

Thou shalt use the phrases “please,” “thank you,” and “excuse me” liberally when negotiating the crowd.

Thou shalt not bring a beach ball.  Who are you anyway?  Every fucking show with the fucking beach ball.  Enough with the beach balls. 

Jack White and the Virgin Suicides

Last night I saw Jack White with The Peacocks.  Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love Jack White, but he is really disappointing live.  It’s like he tries to take on too much, refuses to play anything straight, and monkeys with the timing of his songs in a distracting and annoying way.  I’m all for clamor, but the first two songs were a hot mess.I want to love the lady band The Peacocks, but the whole scene felt like a fucked up Loretta Lynn homage with a sinister Carrie undertone.  Wigs, polyester gowns, I was waiting for the bucket of pig blood to drop out of the sky.  Within his self-created world of nostalgia, Jack White fetish-izes women.  Very Virgin Suicides.Sloppy start notwithstanding, we enjoyed some excellent drumming from Carla Azar.  She clearly resisted the sister-wife uniform.  (Note, these pictures are from the Paris show; the over-all look at our show was much more circa 70’s Nashville.)Jack divided the set among a hearty serving of his solo album, a sprinkling of White Stripes – including a toned-down and unexpected Fell in Love with a Girl, and a track or two of The Dead Weather and The Raconteurs – (set highlight Steady As She Goes sing along).  The well-rounded set list was as good as any I could have hoped for, and they powered through with barely a pause before breaking for the requisite Seven Nation Army encore. Photos by Jo McCaughey who I can only assume was the showy chick clomping around the stage in stacked mary janes and short-shorts taking pictures throughout the performance.  She was serving a little side performance of her own.  Plaza Queen.

the current rotation

Not even 100% sure I like this Actress album R.I.P. yet, but I’m giving it a go as an electronic exploration.I’m thoroughly enjoying Santigold’s long-awaited Master of My Make Believe.  SEE HER LIVE!Spiritualized dropped a fresh album in April called Sweet Heart Sweet Light; snatch it up if you like what Spaceman’s selling.Check out Reign of Terror from Sleigh Bells, their powerful follow up to Treats.  Last time they left me hungry for more; this time around I’m sated. Emeli Sandé somehow manages to exceed the substantial hype surrounding her U.S. breakthrough with the sublime Our Version of Events.You, me, your Aunt Alice, and everybody else I know is listening to Blunderbuss, Jack White’s consistently strong solo effort.  How about a cover album from the Counting Crows?  Try the country-influenced Underwater Sunshine (Or What We Did on Our Summer Vacation).Listen to the evolution (or regression depending on your perspective) of The Mars Volta on Noctourniquet.Had to give MDNA a spin just to see if it was as embarrassingly bad as everyone said it was.  Sadly, it is.  Even though at moments it is lyrically immature, Marina and the Diamonds’ new record Electra Heart is still big fun and has more teeth than the fluff put out by her saccharin pop contemporaries.Not everyone will get the brilliant Julia Holter, but consider challenging your ear with EkstasisBoth nostalgic and fresh sounding, The Cranberries are back with a new album titled RosesDolores retains her distinct and memorable vocal flavor.

Record Rotation: 5 albums worth a listen

TV on the RadioNine Types of Light.  Fucking brilliant.  RIP Gerard Smith. Stevie NicksIn Your Dreams.  Not better than the old stuff, but still completely decent. Not a huge Killers fan, but Flamingo, the new solo record from Brandon Flowers, has really grown on me. Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi present Rome.  Highlight: Two Against One. Eddie VedderUkulele Songs.  Let the golden baritone sing you a lullaby against the sound of Hawaiian waves.

Sunday with the end of Jack and Karen

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.

THE DEAD WEATHER: Sea of Cowards

When it comes to The Dead Weather the sum is greater than the parts.  An inspiring union of gifted musicians, Alison Mosshart, Jack White, Dean Fertita, and Jack Lawrence have all seen success with other projects (The Kills, The White Stripes, Queens of the Stone Age, and The Raconteurs).  However, when these four get together they create music superior to anything any of them has put out before as part of any other musical incarnation. I’ve been patiently waiting all year for a record this fantastic and finally it has arrived in Sea of Cowards.The Dead Weather’s first album, Horehound, counts as one of the best records of 2009.  Sea of Cowards literally feels like it picks up where Horehound left off.Alison Mosshart’s a total fucking hurricane and it is no surprise Kate Moss is out of her mind with jealousy.