Jack White and the Power of Three

I was at Telluride Bluegrass Festival since Wednesday, and I will tell you it was fantastic. I will probably be writing about two of the bands I saw at some point in the future, but words can in no way do the glorious mining town of Telluride justice, so I won't even try. With that summer benchmark behind me, I am now looking ahead to concert tickets I need to purchase for the coming months. Wilco, Sound Tribe, New Pornographers and Dodos are some of the bigger shows for the coming months.

Another is less than a month away, and I not only lack a ticket, but am not feeling any momentum to do so from my normal concert buddies: The Dead Weather at the Ogden. I like going to shows at the Ogden, and enjoy the Dead Weather. However, I never compulsively listen to them and am not sold on the idea of Jack White hiding behind a drum kit. Wouldn't that have been a better decision during the White Stripes era? I love Jack White and his music. The White Stripes sucked live, the Raconteurs are blazing, so that is a wash.

Therefore, the question: Is a Jack White performance an absolutely must see?

And for this, I will go to a tale of the tape and compare White's first 12 years to two artists from a long time ago. In other words, how does his career stand up against other legends?

Bob Dylan (1962-73)

Critical albums: 10
Sea changes: 2
Years since peak: 7
Signature phrase: "Play it fuckin' loud"



Judging Bob in 1973 is a bit unfair, because this is the valley of Bob's first true ebb and immediately prior to the resurgence geared by touring with The Band and the release of Blood on the Tracks. Still, Bob probably seemed a bit out of new ideas at the 12 year mark. "The Man in Me" from New Morning is a fantastic song, but also the thematic anthem of a hippie burnout, which more or less sums up Dylan at the time. One year later, he was back at the top of his game.

Eric Clapton (1963-74)

Critical albums: 7
Years since peak: 5
Bands: 6 + solo
Famous slogan: Clapton is God.



Everything Clapton has done since Slowhand is useless; he has become the King of Corporate Blues. In 1974 though, he was still riding the wave of his legendary work in the 60s. Clapton played with a tremendous lineup of fellow rockers and virtuosos that pushed him musically, and judging by vomit inducers like Reptile he's best that way. However, with his Guitar God days still resonating and a hit song, "I Shot the Sheriff" on the airways, Clapton probably seemed to have not only survived the 60s, but still going strong; his days of future emasculation not even foreshadowed.


Jack White (1999-2010)

Critical albums: 7
Years since peak: 7
Bands: 3
Less known quote: Don't ask me my opinion and then punish me for the answer I give you!



Even though he is a spiritual descendant of Dylan, an amalgam of Dylan and Clapton probably works best for figuring out where Jack White stands. He has a lot of Dylan's attitude and much of his story telling ability. His guitar playing is unique (for its time) like Clapton's and his band switching points to some of Clapton's early wanderlust.

The Dead Weather seems more like a continuation (or beefed up version) of the White Stripes than something entirely new as the Raconteurs are. Now though, Jack finally has a willing counterpart to produce sexual tension and talented support to create the divisive dynamic he yearns for. These are definitely enticements. I wonder why Jack can't just settle into a groove with the Raconteurs and churn out four or five more melodic crunchers, but he seems to crave the male-female dynamic. This instability and wave of new band mates is likely why his music is still fresh. Clapton began his fade when he went solo even though drugs played a big part. Dylan was temporarily invigorated by touring with a menagerie of talent, an oasis of the dust bowl that was 1970-1987. This might not answer my original question, but it does seem to show why Jack White has continued to make relevant, challenging music for over a decade, while the ten year mark is usually the death toll of the biggest bands (Beatles, Zeppelin, Talking Heads).

Trampled by Turtles and the Adventures of the Flannel Four

Arriving ticketless, fully imbibed, and flannel clad at the Ogden, my cohorts and I were greeted by a line that had the personality of I-70 on a Sunday afternoon in Summit County. Trampled by Turtles have been on my radar for a while. We saw them at the Bluebird in December, and although good times were had, it was unmemorable to the point that Frank forgot he was there. My buddy Steve gave them a shout out in a recent email, so their star may be growing, but I wouldn’t have pegged them to sell out the Ogden a few months after playing a full, but definitely-not-packed Bluebird.

Bearded and burly, the Turtles play hard drinking bluegrass with an ethos that says play fast as hell and leave precision plucking and vocal clarity for Chris Thile and Tim O’Brien. There were several slow burning ballads mixed in to give us time to make beer runs and wipe the sweat from our foreheads, but the band isn’t aiming for afternoon afghan sitters.

My mental memory of the performance is two fold: on stage, five players strumming furiously and in complete unison; on the floor, a jamboree of flying, sweaty arms, smiling faces, and many cans of Fosters. Their sound started with shutterbug fiddle as Ryan Young continually snapped off nasty riffs. His band mates played just as hard and let the audience help out with percussion. “Codeine” is their exemplar, a head-banging, rip-roaring ode to Townes Van Zandt that manages to maintain a soaring melody.

To close the night, Turtles pulled Floyd and Dylan covers out of the vault. First came Floyd’s “Breathe,” with a striking arrangement that built from ambient cacophony to fully engaged frenzy. Then, “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” a fitting cap.

A note on the opening act: Paper Bird, a seven member blend of bluegrass and brass instrumentation and female tri-harmony, is worthy of their own post upon further deliberation.