Jack White is a very bad man, in the best possible way.
An artist/ guitar slinger with an impeccable track record (hello, 16 Grammy Awards people!) and a back catalogue of hits (without even scratching the surface of the deeper cuts, fan favourites, rarities) to make most musicians wet with envy (yeah, I'm rolling with that), an evening spent in White's presence is musical nirvana for any righteous music lover. There were plenty of these types in attendance, myself included, last night at Brisbane's The Fortitude Music Hall (5 December) alongside a fair gathering of patrons who'd congregated to hear a liberal splashing of White's iconic numbers.
As the evening progressed and the grumblings of the latter intensified, it was left to the music lovers in the room to shower White with the hearty adulation he – and his tight band of superb musicians: bass, organ and drums – thoroughly deserves.
Image © David James Swanson
Despite arriving just after 8pm, missing support act Piss Shivers (sorry guys), an extended soundcheck ensued which was as good for most finding their spot to view proceedings, the show commenced almost two hours after doors opened, the near sell-out crowd cramming most corners and crevices of the venue, their loud din of chatter almost instantly falling silently as the band, then Jack entered the stage.
The reverence that settled over the audience was somewhat powered by the pre-show address of a dapper-looking older gent who sidled onstage to ask the packed crowd to refrain from using their black screens during the performance, to instead 'live in the moment' – but given it's 2024, people still filmed and photographed the onstage proceedings throughout the evening.
This was the first concert of White's Australian tour, the series of shows in support of his most recent solo album 'No Name', a delicious serving of old-timey yet snarling modern blues with plenty of 'tude.
While most artists with the pedigree and longevity of White usually only offer a smattering of the new material, preferring to keep fans onside with the classics, Jack thumbed his nose at such laziness with 'No Name' dominating the set list with no less than 7 songs from the 13-track record performed.
The album's opener 'Old Scratch Blues' also led proceedings last night, White prowling the stage left and right imploring a visceral reaction from the crowd, his disciples responding with a manic positively, Jack with a joyous, mischievous grin indulging by strangely his axe into submission.
The evening featured very little in-between chatter from Jack – just what I prefer from my artists – the band almost instantly launching into the jangly, fizzing garage blues of 'That's How I'm Feeling', The Church of White dispensing a Sunday prayer service on a Thursday evening – it's rock & roll spiritually direct from the Delta, the Mississippi blues leading to a call and response between artist and crowd, the "uh-huuuh. . . yeeeaaah!" reverbating throughout the building, White clearly impressed with those who had congregated for tonight's service.
Other highlights from 'No Name' included 'It's Rough On Rats' (think Detroit freakout acid blues), 'Morning At Night' and 'Archbishop Harold Holmes' (which commenced the encore section of the performance, Jack rapping like a wild-man preacher intent on deviant pastimes... bliss!).
A large chunk of the onstage musicianship throughout the night was improvised, the band – feeding off each other – slithering over and cajoling each other as they let the music's spirit take over, the jams infused with a sense of yesteryear, almost as if we'd been transplanted to America's Deep South, The Fortitude Music Hall some dingy, backwater dive bar in Alabama or Tennessee.
Image © David James Swanson
Evidence of this was multiple sections of the show were it wasn't apparent where one song ended and another began; Jack even swapped guitars at least twice during what appeared to be the same track, his finely dressed guitar tech working overtime to maintain a steady stream of guitars at the ready.
There were also a healthy smattering of blues covers with 'Born Under A Bad Sign' (Albert King, Booker T. & the M.G.'s cover), 'Stop Breakin' Down Blues' (Robert Johnson cover) and 'John The Revelator' (traditional blues cover) adding to the old-school feels.
A humorous moment appeared about a third of the way through the night when White spotted organ player Bobby Emmett's brush (despite his leather jacket and the sweet dripping from the ceiling, Emmett was easily the coolest looking dude in the room, sorry Jack) which Jack then proceeded to brush his own hair while the band continued to play (after almost 25 years in the industry, I've never seen a lead singer brush their hair mid-set).
While there were no Dead Weather songs performed (the only negative of the evening imo), Brisbane was treated to a single Saboteurs track, 2006 song 'Broken Boy Soldier' that was well received especially by my +1.
The selection of White Stripes songs performed (only four in the main set) also highlighted White's preference to mine his lesser known material, with most renditions quite the departure from the recorded versions.
'Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground' from 2001's 'White Blood Cells' appeared early, probably leading those there for the hits to think they'd be gifted a best-of set, while 'Hotel Yorba' (also from 'White Blood Cells') was a jaunty surprise to hear live, the track keeping with the traditional blues theme of the night.
The brooding, smashing blues of 'Cannon' from The White Stripes' debut, self-titled album was also trotted out, while the main set closed with the rollicking 'Black Math' (from 'Elephant').
Image © David James Swanson
There were also plenty of White's earlier solo material to get your boogie on with 'What's Done Is Done' and 'Why Walk a Dog?' – both from 2018's 'Boarding House Reach' – bringing the country-psych twang while the electrified chunkiness of 'Lazaretto' was one of the most well-known White hits performed on the night.
After a brief interlude, the encore commenced with the aforementioned 'Archbishop Harold Holmes' before 'Blue Orchid' had the joint replicating a bouncing castle as fans got their groove on. . . and the night could have ended there, but you just knew that Jack knew that many had only come to hear that song. . . you know, the one that gets played at every American sporting event to fire up the home crowd.
So when, after an elongated start that didn't make it obvious 'Seven Nation Army' was preparing to land at The Fortitude Music Hall it seemed from my perspective (the crowd around me were too busy going apoplectic, batsh.t crazy) Jack had thrown in his most iconic song as a bone to a deserving yet frenzied crowd, who despite jumping around the stage in a fit of unbridled energy, he too was just going through the motions (the give and take of maintaining a healthy relationship).
A broken guitar string about two-thirds through could have had the inner conspiracy theorist speculating it was impressive sabotage to end the song earlier, yet he and the band powered on.
When they finally took a curtain call, the feedback still emanating through the speakers the crowd maintaining the vocal reverb of the song's iconic rhythm section you could visibly see Jack's genuine appreciation for a blues-educated crowd who'd indulged in a set list that had highlighted both his and the band's chops as utter, utter bad men of blues rock.
