Whenever I see footage of White playing live I’m taken in the same way people are in Red Dwarf when they see Ace Rimmer – I sigh and say ‘what a guy!’
There’s something sexy about guitarists as standard, god knows that’s one of the many reasons I stuck with it but Jack is a guitar hero. It’s the look and the moves and the squealing solos and his utter disrespect for his instrument yet his love of the craft, he’s a very cleverly put together guitarist. I’ve been listening to his first solo album Blunderbuss a lot this week (having followed him from De Stijl onwards avidly) and am just amazed at the way he puts a song together, the man is absolutely relentless. When you can count Jimmy Page and Dave Grohl as fans you know you’re doing something right (I’m not sure if they also fancy him a bit, and it’s not really my place to say).
I nearly came to blows with my girlfriend over Jack (this is metaphorical blows because she would beat me if it ever came down to fisticuffs) because she says she isn’t a fan. I don’t know how you can like rock music of any ilk and not be taken in by Jack, and what he did with Meg or The Raconteurs, or The Dead Weather, to some degree. It feels wholly recognisable in the most positive way. He has brought a lot of the elements of old blues records to a new audience, and while I can say he’s not the only person to do this there is no denying that he has been one of the most successful in that particular task.
So here we go, raise a glass (or cup of tea) and salute him, in all his rabbit glare, ghost skinned, Sweeney Todd coiffed glory. Jack White, do me on a wahwah pedal.