So are they brother and sister, like they said... or are they really divorced... or what?
That's the question that bounced between Time, the New York Times, the music press, and fans everywhere this summer. The duo in question, Detroit-based boy-girl group the White Stripes, has been selling out shows nationwide for the past few years. Composed of guitarist-singer Jack White and drummer Meg White, the band blends the influence of 1930s blues greats with that of 1960s garage rock pioneers to create a unique brand of music that is countless times more sincere than anything on the radio right now - or as far back as you can remember.
The White Stripes' past is mired in secrecy: there is no officially available biography of the band's history. Jack, who seems to do all the speaking at live shows, usually addresses Meg as his "big sister." But this summer, Time broke the story that the band, which had been garnering positive press from publications as varied as Rolling Stone and the New York Times, was really just a very talented divorced couple. The resulting confusion lends an eerie air to the Stripes' songs and creates an intriguing, yet inviting rock 'n roll mystery.
To even the most avid fan, it seems the duo's career started in the late '90s with the release of a handful of vinyl singles. In 1999, the band recorded a 17-track, eponymous full-length debut. The album was released on almost-unheard-of indie label Sympathy For The Record Industry, with which the band has loyally stuck through its skyrocketing career. On The White Stripes the band offered covers by Bob Dylan ("One More Cup of Coffee,") and blues pioneer Robert Johnson ("Stop Breakin' Down") as well as a traditional lament, "St. James Infirmary Blues," proving early on that the duo is not afraid to show its musical roots.
The White Stripes is based heavily on garage rock and that genre's characteristically low production values. Powerchords played on cheap old guitars perfectly match Jack's yelping, cracking voice. Meg's drumming is always astonishingly simplistic - she's just keeping time with bass drum hits and her tambourine, until it's time for her to give accent to her brother's (er, ex-husband's) screams and chord bursts with her crash cymbal.
The duo's second album, De Stijl, is named after a Dutch minimalist art movement. (Maybe the White Stripes met in an art history class, but they're clearly not telling.) More bluesy and mature, De Stijl is an incredible listen: never boring, constantly changing, but always the White Stripes. The album features a touching - if politically incorrect - rendition of "Your Southern Can is Mine," by '30s bluesman Blind Willie McTell, to whom it is dedicated.
Aside from the one cover, De Stijl shows exactly what the Stripes can do as songwriters. The album opens with "You're Pretty Good Looking," a three-chord pop gem with lyrics as simple as its title. "Hello Operator" brings the worlds of garage and blues together, melding bent-note melodies and delightfully rhyming lyrics with unified bursts of powerchords and cymbal crashes. Jack shows off considerable slide skill on "Death Letter" and "Little Bird," becomes gently pensive on "Apple Blossom" and "A Boy's Best Friend," then returns to garage excitement on the furiously-paced "Let's Build A Home." The White Stripes perfectly balance their ballads and hard rock songs - and their ballads aren't boring. Rather, they intelligently address human flaws and insecurities. Yes, intelligently.
This year's White Blood Cells is the 16-track artistic accomplishment that won the band favor with the arts press. Production values are a little better than those of the past two albums - but the result is still aurally rustic. "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" opens the album with some heavily distorted notes, recounting a tale of longing. "Hotel Yorba" allows for floor-stompin' fun with its bouncy rhythm, acoustic guitar, and playful, rhyming lyrics. "Little Room" is a shouted, but melodic, vocal rant accompanied only by bass drum and tambourine. As expected, tracks like "Fell in Love With a Girl" and "Expecting" are pure garage, but the album shies away from the blues influences with which the Stripes experimented in the past. White Blood Cells is laden with heartfelt ballads and intricate finger-picking, from the moving, minor-key "The Union Forever" to childish, adorable "We're Going to Be Friends." It is easy to see how past fans might criticize this choice, but White Blood Cells on the whole is no less intriguing than the albums that preceded it.
No one seems to know who the White Stripes are, or why people throw peppermint candies onstage when they perform. Despite the mysteries surrounding the band, its music is incredibly genuine and austerely perfect. If you are intrigued, you may want to start by investigating De Stijl, or by seeing the White Stripes live (shows are usually cheap) the next time they're in the area.
