Defending the indefensible - 8: Jack White

He's been filming with The Edge and Jimmy Page.

He's Number 17 on Rolling Stone's list of 100 Greatest Guitarists Of All Time. (Not exactly something you want on your CV.)

He recorded that godawful James Bond theme with Alicia Keys - surely, a travesty to match even Duran Duran's.

He's in The Raconteurs - the sort of bluesy jam group that yr mother warned you against listening to: not cos they're dangerous or exciting in any shape or form but because they're CRAP.

He's in a group with the girl from The Kills (Polly Harvey lite, by any other name).

His peers are The Strokes and (later-day) Flaming Lips (nowadays they're R.E.M. lite, by any other name).

I've nothing against The White Stripes - a band I was once moved to write a book featuring - but Jeez. The same way Paul Weller turned to crap after he left The Jam/Style Council and the good auspices of his former bandmates Mick Talbot/Bruce Foxton, one can only observe that without Meg White in tandem, Jack really does seem to be floundering.

On the upside, the first five (at least) White Stripes albums are all great. And he does like Holly Golightly.

P.S. (From Plan B #33)
The Raconteurs
Consolers Of The Lonely (XL)
First impression: he’s smart at playing the marketing game, isn’t he? Same as Radiohead before him, making a great display of ‘releasing for fans only’, thus ensuring The Raconteurs’ second album (“recorded and released in just under a month,” they trumpet, as if bands don’t do this every single day, the world over) receives blanket attention. Second impression: The White Stripes were all about restraint, notably held in check by star turn Meg White. Lose that, add a few seasoned local ‘rock’ and ‘blues’ musicians and everything loses shape. It becomes what it is: a blues jam is a blues jam, whether practised by 20-somethings or 70-somethings. Fiddles don’t help. When this album isn’t sounding like (Wings album) Live And Let Die it sounds like a slightly cheesier Led Zeppelin and when it isn’t sounding like slightly cheesy Led Zeppelin it sounds like a series of White Stripes outtakes that should have been cleaned up and stripped down before being unleashed on a (literally) unsuspecting public. I have nothing against this record or the idea Jack White should want to express himself in many different forms: it’s a great bluesy, Seventies style, shouter for folk who are into such beasts. I’m not.
Everett True

P.P.S. (from Plan B #4)
The Kills
No Wow (Domino)
Tribute bands are back in favour: not even seen as an ironic pleasure, they provide easy access to cherished memories. Miss your adolescence when life seemed so much brighter? Don’t tune in. Tune out. Or perhaps go see a reformed Slint, a cobbled-together Pixies… far better to vicariously live out the thrills of yr younger, keener self then face the reality of yourself as now.
I have little to say about The Kills’ second album. It’s excellent, entertaining, hits all the right buttons and chords. The songwriting is impeccable, Alison’s voice as choked-up and sultry as you’d want, Jamie’s minimal Rolling Stones inflections perfectly understated. It’s going straight onto my iPod – the 2005 equivalent of The Clash’s debut album, easy listening music to reassure and comfort. It’s ace. The title track repeats the main phrase often. ‘Rodeo Town’ sees Alison stretching herself and singing, ‘I Hate The One You Love’ continues their first album motif of love-as-hate, abrasive and dynamic. Man. It’s sweet.
Only trouble is, this identity isn’t theirs at all. It’s lifted wholesale from Polly Harvey’s second album. Does that even matter anymore? I loved Polly Harvey’s second album.
Everett True