Back in Detroit Jack White has managed to win himself the reputation as the biggest asshole in rock and roll, and believe me, there are many, many people vying for the honor. People who have worked for him hate him on whole other levels of loathing at the rampant egotistical man. The sort of man who keeps a mirror on his keyboards so he can check himself out during the set, the sort of man who screams and shouts at his employees. Added to that, his rudeness to other bands on the scene and dismissal of the city when he finally left, made him no friends at all. A friend of mine who wrote a less than favorable review of White and received angry phone calls and was later barred from going to his shows by the biggest diva of all. My friend, a reasonable person usually, refused to listen to White's first solo album, Blunderbuss, with a "I don't care how good it is, life is too short to support the filth."
Jack's excessive hubris was heading for a showdown and he got it Saturday night at Radio City Music Hall. In an interview printed that day in the New York Post, White explained his ban of cell phones thus, "All musicians can’t stand looking out from the stage and seeing a thousand blue rectangles staring back at you. No one likes it — you can ask anyone. And we’ve realized that the fans hate it" and before the set some wise guy told us not to use our cells. Instead a woman ran around the stage taking pix on White's behalf, which would be posted later. Sure, that's not distracting at all.
Not that we could see anything becaause… he turned the closed circuit TV off.
He was very rude to the audience with a nasty, "Quiet the fuck down New York", and only snarling when he spoke to us. Which wasn't often.
But, as reported on rock nyc Saturday night, none of that mattered compared to Jack White storming off stage after an hour and no encore. The audience was furious and a near riot erupted. Rumors spread, none of which seemed true to me, of him being angry at scalpers (eh?), fighting with somebody in the front row, and/or pissed that the audience, who were plenty excited, weren't enthusiastic enough. Later, a security guard would claim that the set was meant to last much longer and White was upset with the sound. During the set, White would ask if he should play acoustic the rest of the way. I thought he was joking, but maybe he wasn't.
So what do I think? I think if you can play an hour of such raging, powerful, gorgeous, hard edged, exhilarating rock and roll, you don't need to excuse yourself or your actions to any one. Never even vaguely a fan of White till this years solo album, I was astonished by his performance. Astonished. Ignoring his hits he played non stop blues derivative hard rock, not stopping for anything but to sneer, "Is this an NPR convention?"
He opened with "Black Math" off White Stripes, and didn't stop for a moment. Buckling at the knees, chasing the next instrumental break, jamming with his stand up bassist, destroying us with a "Love Interrupted" "Missing Pieces", Take Me With You When You Go". A relentless, perfect roar that made mincemeat out of question of temperate and character. It just doesn't matter if he is an asshole. I don't care. Nobody performs a set like that. White pounded the piano with authority on a few songs, back on guitar, he took a Hendrix lick on one song, a blues progression on nearly every song, and whopped it and whooped it.
The light show is the most gorgeous blue (just like the Blunderbuss album cover) and light enough so you can see but not so light that you are blinded, it is like a vicious intimacy. Indeed, the entire evening has a vicious intimacy, it's like being bitch slapped by your girl just before she tongue kisses you. It was a brutal, loud, thriller of a set.
And, yeah, all you got was an hour but, man, what an hour. A killer hour, a power hour of punishing rock and roll. Jack White is an arrogant asshole but he can make rock and roll. What do you care what he is? What business is it? If he can do it, he can do whatever he wants to.
If it wasn't enough, do what I did. Buy a ticket for Sunday's gig.
Grade: A
Setlist
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