Jack White: Are You Famous or Not?

It was June 7, 2018. I had just parked the car, and I glanced back at my 10-year-old son. My wife and I had sensed early on that he could be destined for a life in music, and a Jack White concert was part of the exposure process.

Exposure, that is, to the best.

One of the greatest guitarists of all time according to Rolling Stone.

Twelve Grammys.

Multiple Saturday Night Live appearances.

His own record label (Third Man Records).

Collaborations with the likes of Bob Dylan, Beyoncé, and Alicia Keys.

But as we got out of the car, I had trouble believing where we were. The gravel under our feet was a mere five-minute drive from our home, a humble abode in corn-field-laden suburbia.

The venue was better known—if it was known at all—for an occasional RV sale. (In more recent times, it has been converted into pickleball courts.)

The parking lot of the Wegmans next door had more cars. Stocking the pantry was clearly more in-demand than this musical master.

I thought back to my earlier conversations about attending the show.

Who? had been the most common response.

You know, the guy from the White Stripes, I would say. Blank stares.

You know, that song “Seven Nation Army” they play at all the sporting events? Ohhh…

How was this man—over twenty years into a thriving career—still unknown and playing next to a grocery store in Upstate New York?

Because he was Jack White.

Eccentric.

Inscrutable.

Maybe just weird. The guy who married his bandmate (Meg White), took her last name, and upon getting divorced referred to her as his sister.

An analog and vinyl enthusiast in the digital era.

A Detroiter, more accustomed to substance over style.

He started with the aforementioned White Stripes, a bare-bones outfit comprised of just Meg and himself, even naming one of their albums De Stijl, a shout out to the Dutch art movement that valued simplicity.

Along the way, of course, he had shown he could be more complex when he wanted to be.

The Raconteurs.

The Dead Weather.

But oddly enough, some of his most elaborate work had come as a “solo” artist.

His first three solo albums—Blunderbuss, Lazaretto, and Boarding House Reach—all reached number one on the Billboard 200.

Yet, in typical fashion, the chatter had seemed muted, at least relative to what pop icons had proven chatter could be.

Whether by accident or design, some of the most powerful tracks weren’t even released as singles, becoming cult classics and leaving nonmembers oblivious to the greatness.

Songs like these three—one from each of the above albums—encapsulated the genius that had made me buy tickets, that which had contributed to whatever shell of fame Mr. White was cloaked in.

 

“Hypocritical Kiss” (2012)

Tucked away on Blunderbuss was this track, a reminder of great rock music’s secret ingredient—the keys. Throw in acerbic lines like You would sell your own mother out and then betray your dead brother with another hypocritical kiss, and the outcome was a hidden gem.

Lyrics by Jack White, found at azlyrics.com

 

“I Think I Found the Culprit” (2014)

Near the end of Lazaretto was another song that tapped into the secret ingredient, also not holding back on the acidity—I think I found the culprit, looks like you, it must be you. The upshot was again superb artistry.

Lyrics by Jack White, found at azlyrics.com

 

“Ice Station Zebra” (2018)

On Boarding House Reach, the quirkiness of the art began to match that of the artist, yielding experimental jams like this piano, hip hop, and lo-fi blend. But as White said, You create your own box; you don’t have to listen to any of the label makers printing your obituary.

Lyrics by Jack White, found at azlyrics.com

 

So that’s why in 2018, I found myself near corn fields, about to see a renowned musician no one had heard of, wondering if I should pick up a loaf of bread on the way home.

The show, by the way, was one of the best I’ve seen.

My son, now 16, continues to inch toward his destiny (and get better at pickleball).

And Jack White? Well, he’s still almost famous.

 

Thank you to Buddy Gott and his “Shed a Little Light Light” Music Challenge for inspiring this post.

Title image courtesy Wikimedia Commons.