1/23/13: The White Stripes: The White Stripes

The White Stripes were not the only band in Detroit doing garage rock at the end of the twentieth century.  So what made them different?  What set them apart from the dirty, smelly, un-tuned pack, and turned them into internationally renowned superstars?  There’s the obvious things.  The color scheme.  The whole “two members” thing (no bass!).  The weird mythology.  But there was music, too.  Jack White was not the best singer or guitar player or songwriter in 1999 (and he is certainly not that now), but he had a musical vision, even then, and a distinct way of seeing that vision through.  The White Stripes’ first record is a strikingly confident and competent debut— you can tell, listening to it now, that Mister Jack wanted to be much more than a mere player in Michigan music rags.  

What impresses me most, I think, is its variety.  There are the obligatory garage rock rave-ups here (“When I Hear My Name,” “Jimmy the Exploder,” “Screwdriver,” “Broken Bricks” et al… and all wonderfully done), but there’s also cutesy folk (“Sugar Never Tasted So Good”), dramatic ballads (“Suzy Lee,” “Wasting My Time”), heavy blues (“I Fought Piranhas”), semi-political punk (“The Big Three Killed My Baby”) and a pretty daring selection of covers (they do “Stop Breakin Down,” which the Stones did on fucking EXILE ON MAIN STREET, and Dylan’s “One More Cup of Coffee,” and the blues standard “St James Infirmary”).  Jack’s moods swing wildly, from childish joy to bitter rage— pretty impressive, given he’s just using a guitar and Meg to convey this stuff.

“Eclecticism,” yes, that’s the word.  That’s what made the Stripes a band apart, even from the get go.  That, and not caring what the hell cool people think.  Has any other Detroit band ever attempted a rocker as plaintive as “Do”?  Or a popper as disarming as “Sugar Never Tasted So Good”?  (For that matter, has any Detroit band ever sang about “Sugar” without it being a euphemism for the female anatomy?)  These two qualities of the Stripes would be expanded and refined over the group’s next two records.  Jack’s mostly a riff-man on this one—the really strong pop melodies would come later— but his guitar playing already exhibits the kind of efficiency that would make Johnny Ramone nod (see what he does with just TWO notes on “Astro” and “Big Three” ?  THE SAME TWO NOTES, I’m pretty sure).

“The White Stripes” is the band’s only “true” garage-rock album; as such, its one of the best in said genre that I’ve ever heard.  Only a few filler tracks (“Slicker Drips,” “Little People”) prevent it from being on par with the group’s next two semi-masterpieces.