We all have irrational hatred for places, things and even people. There's no reason — it's just how we as the species deal with things we cannot really understand. For me, Jack White fits into this category.
People say to me all the time, "With tyrants and murderers and rapists and corporate misers, why Jack White?" Here's why!
In 2003, Rolling Stone put out a list meant to be the ultimate ranking in the great debate of favorite guitarists. What it really became is the ultimate inside joke.
Whether senior editor David Fricke compiled this list based on influence, talent or popularity, no one could tell. Even so, some big, big names were undervalued or left off the list completely (Eddie Van Halen, No. 70; Slash, not even listed). Add to this a couple of head-shakers were listed in the top 20 (Johnny Ramone, anti-guitar hero, No.16; Kurt Cobain, the man who killed the guitar solo, No. 12). Needless to say, this index caused such consternation for my high school friends and me that we collectively said, "Rolling Stone must be full of sh*t." Because it was so atrocious, it was redone after four years by a panel of voters consisting mostly of notorious guitarists led by Pete Townshend.
The point of all this is that I am still indignant because I still cannot imagine how Jack White was even on the list, let alone ranked No. 17. No. 17! Not joking.
So what did I do? I blamed White. Not David Fricke, who I can only assume was on the worst acid trip in human history to be so delusional to think this list was somewhat legitimate to publish. Nor did I blame the movie It Will Get Loud, the guitar film with U2's The Edge and Led Zeppelin's Jimmy Page as well as White, who of all people was selected to represent the later decades even though he played drums with The Dead Weather at this time. Nor Cold Mountain, the Civil War epic in which Renee Zellweger won an academy award and then proceeded to date White after production. No, I blamed White, even though it wasn't his fault he was put on some asinine list in the first place. Still, he is a little bit of a charlatan when it comes to his real back story back home in Detroit (read on ... gross).
I think, after nine years, it's time to forgive. I'm always ready to give someone a fair shake. White's also ranked No. 70, which is still too high, but I can deal. With that, Blunderbuss, White's first actual solo album (hard to believe with all his side projects) is quite good.
Written, recorded and produced entirely by White himself, it helps for me personally that he leaves all the guitar-god garbage out of this for the most part. This could be seen as a main detractor for some White Stripes fans, and was for some reviewers, but that's on them. White's versatility shows that guitar is just a sample of his talents as shown on drums with The Dead Weather and keys with the Stripes' album Get Behind Me Satan, with the latter instrument shining through as Blunderbuss's best attribute.
The album shows a mix of early rock 'n' roll and country styling that seems to solidify White's transition from The White Stripes (defunct in 2011) to a state of independence. According to White, former drummer Meg White apparently had the final say on anything creative because of her obstinate nature (or maybe because they were actually ex-spouses ... ecch). After fronting two side projects before the band split, I would say that stands up under examination because The Raconteurs and The Deadweather were more tolerable than White's clumsy finesse when he played with the Stripes on guitar. There is even more subtle playing here.
The single, "Love Interruption," is probably the finest track on the record. It's easy to see the lyrical knives in White's back as something resembling a Dusty Springfield demo complete with a '60s Wurlitzer electric piano plays in the background. Likewise, the familiar brightness of this keyboard can be made out on the opening of "Missing Pieces." While I generally dislike the guitar solo in the middle (sorry to belabor it), I think the overall tone from the keyboard provides an awesome prog-rock vibe.
However, the point where White is most truthful, and thus more likeable, is his response to staunch critics on "Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy." Here, he understands that he might have given up some of his identity and originality for the sake of the fame, but says he doesn't care. Although he is nothing more than a character built up by his musical character, it's still better than doing nothing but sleeping, sitting down and reviewing. Ironically, any amount of proselytizing he could do is no match for saying people have the free will to like him or not. Touche, Mr. White.
So, it seems my icy resolve regarding Jacky Dubs has thawed. Whatever I think about White, I have to tip my hat to him. It was a good album with less of the staccato chunk common on a White Stripes guitar solo. Even so, it's what he didn't do that made this album palatable. The question is, now that he is a Jack-of-all-trades (yes, pun intended), will he continue to be heralded as a guitar player? It would be a return to sanity, in my mind, if he chose this road.
For Your Consideration: "Missing Pieces," "Love Interruption," "Hip (Eponymous) Poor Boy."
For Next Time: I'm sorry. Nothing sticks out to me right now. But, if you remember, I said I would have a big announcement last review, right? How about this. Since I said I was finished with "This Week in Music," I have some time on my hands. Why not get another review in a week? Scheduling has to be moved around. I am thinking moving the first review to Friday at midnight, like how this review was posted. This gives enough time to listen a few time to new albums. How about the second Monday at midnight? OK? Break!
UPDATE: Saw White on The Colbert Report. He "gave the people what they wanted" by flailing up and down the neck of a Telecaster and hitting the whammy pedal like an ass. Ugh. Die.
No comments:
Post a Comment