Ten Years and Ten Days of Le Rouge, Le Blanc, and Le Noir: The White Stripes

The White Stripes (with Grinderman, Porter Wagoner)
@ Madison Square Garden
New York, NY - July 24, 2007

Ten years and ten days after 2 kids who nearly called themselves the Peppermints played 3 songs at the Gold Dollar in Detroit, Michigan, the White Stripes headlined a show at Madison Square Garden. Some could argue it was a double bill, even a triple bill, considering the weight and respect behind the first two acts, but at the end of the day it was the White Stripes atop the marquee, and it was they who brought upwards of 15,000-20,000 people to the Garden on a Tuesday night. It was they who brought the usual rabble of hipsters, punks, metal heads, frat boys, and classic rockers, tweens, teens, twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, forty-somethings, and beyond. It was they who played for those who only knew "Seven Nation Army" and those who thought "Fell In Love With The Girl" was the signal that they had sold out. For those who thought Get Behind Me Satan was a classic and those who hated its very existence. And for those who think Icky Thump is the triumph of their aluminum anniversary.

A long way away from that Bastille Day last century, and a month removed from the greatest performance this writer has possibly ever seen by any band ever, the Stripes had a tough task before them. The acoustics of the Garden proved challenging to their sound, at least to those who have heard them in smaller places. They had to appease the most vanilla, mainstream, widespread crowd they've arguably ever attracted, while sticking to their signature ethic and etiquette. They more or less succeeded, but something was amiss - it wasn't firing on all cylinders. The band played well, in fact they played perfectly, but they didn't sound their best. It may have been beyond their control, in fact it probably was, but when even "Ball and Biscuit", the last song before the encore and when this writer left, doesn't sound like the best performance ever, it's not the White Stripes' greatest concert performance.

(This is the encore I missed: Blue Orchid // I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself // Little Ghost // We're Going To Be Friends // Little Bird -> Catch Hell Blues [DAMN!] // My Doorbell // Seve Nation Army // Boll Weevil)

Intriguingly, it was the first time I heard and saw Jack play songs straight through and move on to the next one. No stopping short, no returns, no medleys. It was as if Jack felt he had to give the arena crowd a straight up arena show. And while in the past this writer poo-poo'ed the frequent medleys because it would cut off some of the best songs, I sort of missed it this time. "Don't know what you got till it's gone", a hair metal band once sang and it's true.

Highlights included "Canon" and "Slowly Turning Into You" the latter of which may have been the best song of the night, especially aided by the lights show. But what was up with that elevated platform? Jack only went up there once during the main set, to strut across for a few seconds. We should have at least been treated to an Angus shuffle.

But above all, this night was about reflections, remembrances, nostalgia, and ultimately, looking to the future. Having just seen them play their most intimiate New York show in years, and hearing and reading all about those special "secret" shows for Canadians these last few weeks, the past and future of the White Stripes and their fans collided and exploded at Madison Square Garden. Having reached the pinnacle of rock n roll stardom (at least for this diffuse day and age), the White Stripes really can't go any further. They sit atop the rock n roll temple as the most respected critics band to be equally popular with the trend setters, the die hard rock n roll snobs, and the mainstream audience. They sit atop that temple with the Steeple of Jack White firmly in place as the man of the hour, of his generation, and all the good and all the baggage that comes with it.

Five years ago, this writer caught wind of "Fell In Love With The Girl" and over the course of a few months, the White Stripes took over as the band and they haven't really relinquished that spot. Perhaps it is because they are new and regenerate themselves with new records, perhaps it is because they are the nexus of blues, country, punk, rock n roll. For whatever reason, they are the top special. They are responsible for this writer seeing pretty much every single band he has seen over the last five years and every record he has bought. They are responsible for much in the way of personal affairs, private life changing things, and all the good and all the baggage that comes with that. That is some unknown burden (or is it unknown?) for a rock band to have. Especially for just a duo with a really hot drummer.

It's been quite a road traveled. From those 3 songs at the Gold Dollar, to the Great Biographical Lie, to the MTV Movie Awards, to the Pre-Tour Video, to the Hammerstein Ballroom with Loretta Lynn and Blanche, to jamming with Mick Collins on "Rated X", to those shows with the Strokes, to those four nights at the Bowery Ballroom, to a week's residency at Conan, to a Grammy Performance that blew the world away, to the internet message board that has stirred up lives and emotions not just of fans but of the band itself, to headlining Glastonbury, to being on The Simpsons, to playing every Canadian province and territory and every American state in one tour, including a one-note hullabaloo on the streets of a Podunk Canadian provincial capital, and one night with Nick Cave and Porter Wagoner at Madison Square Garden, this is a road not taken by any other band - neither popular nor respected.

When Jack sings about redheaded girls he shouldn't kiss, this sums it all up. Everything. From the 3 songs on Bastille Day to Madison Square Garden. People, places, actions, comments, scraps, babies, all of it. It's a sign that some things will probably be forever broken and never repaired, that things have to change for better or worse, that nothing ever lasts, that the circle opens and closes. People move on, people stay, there will be loyalty and gratitude (as assuredly as death, taxes, wristbands, and inchapones), and there will be drama. One could - and should - say that "it should just be about the music" and nothing else should matter. But eventually, even in this sometimes absurd road traveled, those things around the music become the music. And though it is not consequential enough for someone on the outside to look into, think of the survey of the land, of this inexorable relationship between this band and its fans, between this band and their peers who share the same fans, and the fact that some fans become more than fans...blame (or credit) the internet for it, blame (or credit) - or at least question - the mental health of all involved, bands and fans alike, take it all in, and map that road from 3 songs at the Gold Dollar to Madison Square Garden.

Is it time to look for the exit ramp?