Skip to main content

Dear Jack White....STFU

Jack White...ever heard of The Flat Duo Jets? Your career started off ripping them off. Now you accuse The Black Keys of ripping YOU off? Really? Shut the front door!




I first heard about you a dozen or so years ago. I thought you sucked then. I still do. At that time, Danny Auerbach opened for me a number of times. He was a great kid, and a great picker and singer. He was trying to do more rockabilly-ish stuff at the time...but blues was what he was best at. And how! I still have a bunch of home-made CDs he gave me at the time. I also remember him telling me about the little side project he was starting with a drummer. It sounded interesting. A lot more interesting than anything The White Stripes ever did.

There's nothing new under the sun kid. Hasil Adkins was doing guitar/drum stuff in the 50s, as were cats like Dr. Ross. Like I said, nothing new.





The best, most soul-shaking music I have ever heard was a guitar/drum duo...street musicians...playing in a park in Memphis. Just two fat, old, black guys, playing their hearts out...and doing it better than anyone I had heard...or have heard since.

Jack White, you ruin everything you touch. I remember how excited Wanda Jackson was to work with you. The finished product sucked. I mean it SUCKED! I tried to like it...because I dig Wanda. But damn son, you just ruined it! It was like you tried to ruin it!

OK, maybe you're an ideas man. If that's the case...please...take some time away from music and work on those ideas. You should have enough money to do so. If not...go get a real job. Ground yourself. You're not important. You never have been and probably never will be.

The Black Keys have reached an amazing level of success. Their music is everywhere! You can't get away from it! While it irritates me a bit, I am proud of Danny and Patrick for their success...a success you have, and probably never will reach. Will they be able to sustain this success? Probably not. Most bands can't. Its the nature of the business. But I'm sure they've managed to squirrel away a retirement fund...so they're good.

Jack White...shut up and go away. Please. OK, you apologized for your Rolling Stone rant. Good boy. Now please...just go away until you have something to say of musical worth. Anyone can record and release mediocre music. It doesn't make you any more special than anyone else. If you really are the genius you seem to believe yourself to be, put up or shut up. OK?

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Old Photo

The photo was old and scratched up. It looked like it had been handled and mishandled for years, and it probably had. Passed from hand to hand, tucked into scrapbooks, displayed in frames, stuffed into drawers, and rescued again. It had been looked at thousands of times. It was still his favorite. It wasn't historically important. Just a photograph of friends sitting in someone's back garden, sharing a few laughs and a few cold beers. The image was every bit as grainy as the memories attached to it. The colors had faded with age, drifting toward reds and yellows. Time had left its fingerprints everywhere. He was the only one left in the photograph. When his time came, would anyone remember those old glory days? Those years when importance itself seemed unimportant. When photographs weren't taken to prove anything, advertise anything, or preserve a carefully crafted image. They were taken simply because someone thought a moment was worth keeping. There was no guarantee the p...

A Bluesy Melody and a Scratchy Photograph

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't born in the mountains. Nor had he been raised in a cave. His appearance, though, often led people to think otherwise. A barber's chair was as likely a place for him to visit as the moon. I don't believe he had ever shaved. His hair, long and unkempt, looked even longer thanks to his seemingly endless beard, which was braided and knotted at the bottom. If unfurled, it probably would have dipped well below his waist.  His mannerisms and manner, while peculiar, were so only in that he was almost religiously polite. What at first glance might appear stand-offish was nothing more than his attempts at being inobtrusive. He was almost like some Appalachian monk, raised by a society trapped in the past, who occasionally ventured into town. He was extremely well-read and more tech savvy than most teenagers. Utmost, he maintained his privacy. No one knew just where he lived. He came and went at his own leisure, unnoticed by the world until he mad...

The American

 In his native America, he'd always had a shady reputation. As a young man, he worked as muscle for hire, worked as a bouncer in gambling houses and brothels, and always had a side hustle moving drugs or weapons. He could always be counted on to find a buyer for stolen goods, too. He was smart enough to see the cracks forming in the government long before most. Within days of the First Attack, he'd made plans to leave the country. Some of his cohorts with Sicilian lineage helped him get to Europe. From there he was on his own. He managed to bring along a tidy sum in cash and jewels. This gave him the advantage of time to form new contacts. He was told time and time again that the capital of Bulgaria - Sofia - would be a good place to set himself up. There were gangs there who could make use of his skills, and provided he kept out of trouble and his name out of the local gossip, he would do fine.  And he did. He pretty much became, as he liked to call himself, a consultant. He ...