Essay: The White Stripes
The Martyrdom of St. Jack:
How did the boy wonder of 2001 become one of 2005's most divisive rock icons?
It isn't often that a review from a free metro Detroit weekly makes it all the way to the NME newswire...but then again, there is only one Jack White. Last week White's latest website screed became international news when the aforementioned British music magazine reported on his tiff with writer Chris Handyside, author of a book on the White Stripes and a former member of Motor City staples like the Hentchmen and the Dirtbombs. The subject of White's ire was a scathing review by Handyside of the Stripes' latest album, published in Detroit's Metro Times. The specifics were both all too familiar and, beneath the surface, more complex than they appear.
One cannot deny that in the last few years, gossip like the Handyside fiasco has been increasingly more prevalent than the wave of praise - some might say hype - which surrounded the White Stripes in 2001, after the release of their breakthrough album White Blood Cells. This certainly isn't from lack of quality music: in the short time since "Fell in Love with a Girl" first hit mainstream airwaves, White has written and produced two critically acclaimed and artistically successful albums, overseen a career rebirth for country music legend Loretta Lynn, and toured constantly with a live show that has been lauded as one of the best in the business. But it is an unfortunate truth that the series of controversies which have beset him in those same four years have begun to make him appear, at best, harried and defensive, and at worst...well, a bit of an asshole.
The court of public opinion's verdict on Jack White has been souring steadily since virtually the moment he became a household name. His interviews around the time of Elephant painted the picture of a sour old crank trapped in a young man's body, complaining incessantly about computers and body piercings. As if that wasn't enough, his physical attack on Von Bondies leader Jason Stollsteimer that December appeared dangerously unhinged, opening up a whole new can of worms as "eyewitnesses" crawled out of the woodwork to whisper about past incidents of physical violence and control issues. Not only a grouch but a criminal, White couldn't have ended what should have been his glory year on a worse note. Then, thanks to a brief (but public) romance with his Cold Mountain costar Renee Zellweger, and a concurrent series of red carpet appearances where Joan Rivers likened his fashion sense to that of Michael Jackson, another pejorative was added to the list: poor dresser.
Of course, the easy reaction to all this is simply not to care. Cry me a river, Jack. So what if you're not the press and public's golden boy anymore? You've got a video on MTV. Your records are still selling a hell of a lot better than your old pals' in the Go. And it's pretty obvious by now that you could take most of these haters in a barfight, so why sweat it? After all, White may have called Handyside a "Detroit opportunist," but hasn't White himself been accused of as much time and time again? It's not like he has to be a good guy to make good music; countless great artists, from Ernest Hemingway to Lou Reed to Prince, have rightfully been better known for their work than for their sunny and generous personalities. And if we have to put up with an irascible control freak, even a borderline psychotic barroom brawler, to get songs like "Forever for Her" and "As Ugly as I Seem," then hell, that seems like an even enough trade to me.
And yet. And yet. The snowballing demonization of Jack White post-Elephant may seem justified at first glance, but is that really all there is to it? Yes, his response to Handyside's review might have come off as a little shrill...but have you read the review? It was a blatant bait if ever I've seen one; Handyside spending the first half in non-sequitur mode, "subtly" calling Jack's marriage a sham, before turning around and lambasting the songs themselves with a tone so snide and sub-Lester Bangs arrogant he may as well have been goading White to come after him in the Magic Stick parking lot. And frankly, if somewhat melodramatic, White's "opportunist" epithet had the ring of truth; Handyside's Detroit rock CV notwithstanding, that review was awfully holier-than-thou coming from a guy who wrote a quick'n'dirty unauthorized bio to cash in on the Stripes' success. You've got to wonder whether Jack is just getting tired of this stuff. And if playing the nice guy gets him these kinds of personal attacks disguised as record reviews, then who can blame him for being on the defensive?
Yes, by and large any diminishment in Jack White's reputation has been nobody's fault but his own. He's an idealist and an obscurist, and seemingly a shy one at that; attempting to come across naturally in a media with which he shares few values can only be an uphill battle. White has always recognized this fact - after all, this is the guy who wrote "Offend in Every Way" - and it seems as if he's finally beginning to resign himself to it. According to the L.A. Times, he plans on promoting Get Behind Me Satan with only three interviews, in stark contrast with the media overload which accompanied the last album (and, tellingly, set off the chain of character assassination which persists to this day). But is it too late? Reviews for the new record, while mostly positive, have come nowhere near the overwhelming accolades heaped upon the last two. One has to wonder how much this has to do with the actual music and how much it has to do with Jason, with Renee, with all of the baggage that surrounds Jack White in 2005; baggage that just wasn't there in 2001, or even early 2003.
Today, as far as the public is concerned, White is practically the sum of his baggage. "Exposes" on everything from his marriage certificates to his Hollywood love life have eroded away the last vestiges of the White Stripes mythology, erasing the innocence that formed the cornerstone of their early appeal in the process. Even the infamous color-coded look no longer belongs to him, having been co-opted and trendified by Gerard Way of insipid emo-pop twerps My Chemical Romance. We've peeled away every layer of White's carefully constructed public persona, from the brother/sister cover-up on down, and then balked because we didn't like what we saw. Well, is that really such a surprise? Does anyone like to see a man backed into a corner?
The dilemma, then, is when to stop. At what point does attention to a musician's personal life become detrimental to appreciation of his music? It's a tough call to make; after all, any conclusion I draw here would be just as speculative as the gossip itself. But maybe there's a reason why Bob Dylan refused to make public reference to his real surname until 1979. Maybe self-mythology does have a place in rock and roll; not merely to sell records, but as a sort of frame, helping us focus on the art behind the legend. And maybe, just maybe, it's time to stop worrying about whether Jack White is a pariah or a saint and start listening to the music again. Because if White's hero Robert Johnson has proven anything, it's that in 75 years nobody will be worrying about whether or not Jack and Karen's Brazilian wedding was legit. All we'll remember is the Seventh Son.
Metrotimes.com: "Yo, Jack"
NME.com: "Jack White berates White Stripes books"
See Also: Jack's Mugshot
How did the boy wonder of 2001 become one of 2005's most divisive rock icons?
It isn't often that a review from a free metro Detroit weekly makes it all the way to the NME newswire...but then again, there is only one Jack White. Last week White's latest website screed became international news when the aforementioned British music magazine reported on his tiff with writer Chris Handyside, author of a book on the White Stripes and a former member of Motor City staples like the Hentchmen and the Dirtbombs. The subject of White's ire was a scathing review by Handyside of the Stripes' latest album, published in Detroit's Metro Times. The specifics were both all too familiar and, beneath the surface, more complex than they appear.One cannot deny that in the last few years, gossip like the Handyside fiasco has been increasingly more prevalent than the wave of praise - some might say hype - which surrounded the White Stripes in 2001, after the release of their breakthrough album White Blood Cells. This certainly isn't from lack of quality music: in the short time since "Fell in Love with a Girl" first hit mainstream airwaves, White has written and produced two critically acclaimed and artistically successful albums, overseen a career rebirth for country music legend Loretta Lynn, and toured constantly with a live show that has been lauded as one of the best in the business. But it is an unfortunate truth that the series of controversies which have beset him in those same four years have begun to make him appear, at best, harried and defensive, and at worst...well, a bit of an asshole.
The court of public opinion's verdict on Jack White has been souring steadily since virtually the moment he became a household name. His interviews around the time of Elephant painted the picture of a sour old crank trapped in a young man's body, complaining incessantly about computers and body piercings. As if that wasn't enough, his physical attack on Von Bondies leader Jason Stollsteimer that December appeared dangerously unhinged, opening up a whole new can of worms as "eyewitnesses" crawled out of the woodwork to whisper about past incidents of physical violence and control issues. Not only a grouch but a criminal, White couldn't have ended what should have been his glory year on a worse note. Then, thanks to a brief (but public) romance with his Cold Mountain costar Renee Zellweger, and a concurrent series of red carpet appearances where Joan Rivers likened his fashion sense to that of Michael Jackson, another pejorative was added to the list: poor dresser.
Of course, the easy reaction to all this is simply not to care. Cry me a river, Jack. So what if you're not the press and public's golden boy anymore? You've got a video on MTV. Your records are still selling a hell of a lot better than your old pals' in the Go. And it's pretty obvious by now that you could take most of these haters in a barfight, so why sweat it? After all, White may have called Handyside a "Detroit opportunist," but hasn't White himself been accused of as much time and time again? It's not like he has to be a good guy to make good music; countless great artists, from Ernest Hemingway to Lou Reed to Prince, have rightfully been better known for their work than for their sunny and generous personalities. And if we have to put up with an irascible control freak, even a borderline psychotic barroom brawler, to get songs like "Forever for Her" and "As Ugly as I Seem," then hell, that seems like an even enough trade to me.
And yet. And yet. The snowballing demonization of Jack White post-Elephant may seem justified at first glance, but is that really all there is to it? Yes, his response to Handyside's review might have come off as a little shrill...but have you read the review? It was a blatant bait if ever I've seen one; Handyside spending the first half in non-sequitur mode, "subtly" calling Jack's marriage a sham, before turning around and lambasting the songs themselves with a tone so snide and sub-Lester Bangs arrogant he may as well have been goading White to come after him in the Magic Stick parking lot. And frankly, if somewhat melodramatic, White's "opportunist" epithet had the ring of truth; Handyside's Detroit rock CV notwithstanding, that review was awfully holier-than-thou coming from a guy who wrote a quick'n'dirty unauthorized bio to cash in on the Stripes' success. You've got to wonder whether Jack is just getting tired of this stuff. And if playing the nice guy gets him these kinds of personal attacks disguised as record reviews, then who can blame him for being on the defensive?
Yes, by and large any diminishment in Jack White's reputation has been nobody's fault but his own. He's an idealist and an obscurist, and seemingly a shy one at that; attempting to come across naturally in a media with which he shares few values can only be an uphill battle. White has always recognized this fact - after all, this is the guy who wrote "Offend in Every Way" - and it seems as if he's finally beginning to resign himself to it. According to the L.A. Times, he plans on promoting Get Behind Me Satan with only three interviews, in stark contrast with the media overload which accompanied the last album (and, tellingly, set off the chain of character assassination which persists to this day). But is it too late? Reviews for the new record, while mostly positive, have come nowhere near the overwhelming accolades heaped upon the last two. One has to wonder how much this has to do with the actual music and how much it has to do with Jason, with Renee, with all of the baggage that surrounds Jack White in 2005; baggage that just wasn't there in 2001, or even early 2003.
Today, as far as the public is concerned, White is practically the sum of his baggage. "Exposes" on everything from his marriage certificates to his Hollywood love life have eroded away the last vestiges of the White Stripes mythology, erasing the innocence that formed the cornerstone of their early appeal in the process. Even the infamous color-coded look no longer belongs to him, having been co-opted and trendified by Gerard Way of insipid emo-pop twerps My Chemical Romance. We've peeled away every layer of White's carefully constructed public persona, from the brother/sister cover-up on down, and then balked because we didn't like what we saw. Well, is that really such a surprise? Does anyone like to see a man backed into a corner?
The dilemma, then, is when to stop. At what point does attention to a musician's personal life become detrimental to appreciation of his music? It's a tough call to make; after all, any conclusion I draw here would be just as speculative as the gossip itself. But maybe there's a reason why Bob Dylan refused to make public reference to his real surname until 1979. Maybe self-mythology does have a place in rock and roll; not merely to sell records, but as a sort of frame, helping us focus on the art behind the legend. And maybe, just maybe, it's time to stop worrying about whether Jack White is a pariah or a saint and start listening to the music again. Because if White's hero Robert Johnson has proven anything, it's that in 75 years nobody will be worrying about whether or not Jack and Karen's Brazilian wedding was legit. All we'll remember is the Seventh Son.
Metrotimes.com: "Yo, Jack"
NME.com: "Jack White berates White Stripes books"
See Also: Jack's Mugshot
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