Farewell, White Stripes

Yesterday the White Stripes announced that they would no longer record or perform music together. It’s strange to say, but—despite the fact I haven’t even really listened to their past two albums—the end of The White Stripes is very very upsetting for me.

The White Stripes in a lot of ways musically framed my entire teenager-dom. It’s baffling, but true: I have made friends through this band. I developed my own appreciation of music through this band. I learned about the history of my own city through this band.

Something about the mixture of Jack White’s anxious, sweaty yelping, Meg’s steady, simple drumming, and the strange psycho-sexual between them was as unique and beloved as it was polemic, frustrating, obnoxious, tiresome, cliché, reactionary, creepy, etc etc etc.

For one thing, (and something people from cities that people actually enjoy living in won’t really understand) the White Stripes brought attention to our perpetually unloved city, at the most basic level. Through their incredible success, the White Stripes showed me that even two outsiders from our sad, dying Midwestern metropolis can come to be the most famous and unique band in the entire world. (In Detroit, songs from “White Blood Cells” and “Seven Nation Army” are so well known that in certain circles you’ll get more of an impassioned response singing a TWS tune than you would singing the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, etc.)

For another, I feel like for much of my basic development as a human being the White Stripes have been playing in the background. I can’t think of any other musical artist that has permeated my own consciousness and understanding of myself and my surroundings through the years as much as the White Stripes have... and I never even consciously liked their music that much. (Entry forthcoming on the Liza Dzul LJ backlog of White Stripes commentary.)

In short, the White Stripes mean a lot to most people I know, they mean a lot to modern music, they mean a lot to our city, Detroit, they mean a lot to my generation of music fans, and, for all these reasons and more, they mean a lot to me.

Jack you seem like kind of an asshole, and Meg, you are somewhat unremarkable (except for your giant boobs), but together you made something magical and I am sorry for future generations of music fans that we all have to see you go.