The RaconteursOpening forBob Dylan

Enjoyed an interesting mini-tour on the eastern seaboard this fall where I had the pleasure of seeing Jack White and his Raconteurs open 4 different shows for the Man, the Master, Bob Dylan. The past and the future all rolled up in one. And that’s just Jack White. It says a lot for Jack’s drawing power that the Dylan show in Philadelphia, Nov. 18,2006, was my 101st lifetime but I wouldn’t have passed a hundred if the Racs weren’t the opening set. I was perfectly content to take in the 4 Canadian dates and end my Dylan concert-going career at 99 shows. I could then have spent the rest of my life saying: “I saw Bob Dylan 99 times! Would have seen him a hundred but three digits is a little excessive, don’t you think?” Not to be. The lure of Jack White, the lure of Boston, the lure of friends at every show and a party around every corner, were a little too much to convince me to show restraint.

The reasons this tour ticket was a match made in heaven are just too numerous to list here, I’ll focus on the opening act. The Raconteurs are bringing a limited set list and a lot of volume to the stage. Jack’s committed to making this manifestation of his unstoppable talent something distinctly different from the White Stripes. It’s a much more structured schtick. These are new-age outlaws. Their history reaches back to the spaghetti westerns of the ‘60’s, they grew up riding their broomstick-horses and fightin’ and ‘ ‘cussin’ in the mud and the blood and the ginger beer. (You see why we have Bang Bang in the set list?) They are boys and men and boys again. They are broken boys. They are soldiers and cowboys. Their sound is mired in the garage-band ethos of MC5 and the Stooges. (You see why we have the original composition 5 on the 5 and the cover, Headin’ For the Texas Border, in the set list?)

Four blistering shows, two in Boston on the weekend of the 11th and 12th of November. The next weekend we get one show in Fairfax and one show in Philadelphia. The Raconteur portion of the tour consists of 8 shows. We’re seeing shows #2,3,7 and 8. A few interesting sub-themes crop up during the two lost weekends. One is the volume. Two is the audience response. Three is the volume. Four is the band response. Five is the volume. Six is the anti-climactic ‘Jack ‘n Bob’ component.

The pre-show music, courtesy of the opening band, is Ramones, great feel good songs to get everyone’s eardrums warmed up. When lights go down the introductory music is supplied by Sergio Leone’s score for Once Upon A Time in America. Just to establish a mood. . (Check out some studio shots of that production to see where the album cover came from.) The band generally comes on during this segment and launches into a “Hands intro” before breaking into either Intimate Secretary or Hands itself. I prefer it when Hands is up front because that means we get something even more kick-ass to close the show. We got the variations split down the middle, two of each. One evening we get the distinct added pleasure of the band continuing the OUATIA theme music on their own instruments before switching to Hands.

The set is broken down into a few distinct components: The opening portion, primarily straight-up rock, consisting of the original tunes; Hands, and/or Intimate Secretary and Level. Steady As She Goes makes an appearance if Hands isn’t played. All these songs serve to warm up the band and the audience but it’s just an appetizer. The most notable change made in this segment was the flowering of Level, once a cute 4 minute pop-song, now an 8-minute guitar blow-out. Steady As She Goes was given a couple different treatments, the best of which was the slow version, emulating the single. The set lists are static but the arrangements change every night. OK, not so much the ‘arrangement’ as the delivery. Some variation is tossed into virtually every song to make it just a little bit (or a lot) different than the last time you heard it.

Band intro’s come after that brief opening three-song flurry. Brendan Benson alternates with Jack White when doing the band intros. Thankfully they are filling the air space with less ‘banter’ during these opening sets. Sometimes trying to be cute takes away from the act and Jack and Brendan have a tendency to egg each other on to the point of silliness. I could relate a show where the Capital of Asia was the subject under discussion onstage, but I won’t. Still the band intros proved to be the point where the artists would convey their feelings to us. Starting right up with the first night in Boston, only the second show, and already the news getting back to the band was that the music was too loud for the old Dylan fans. Not this fan, that’s for sure, but I did hear some comments to that effect, when I could hear anything at all. Brendan closes his introductions with this little quip: “You can take your earplugs out now, we’re going to do some acoustic numbers.” There was a day off in between the opening night in Portland ME and this show in Boston so the band had time to read some reviews, even scour the ‘Net or talk to flesh-and-blood fans. They didn’t see my blog or find my posts at the Dylanpool or drop me a line, because the last thing on my ‘complaint list’ would have been the volume. The following weekend Jack continues this theme by making similar comments and introducing the band as “The Earplugs”, instead of by their proper name. It was cute enough. Perhaps an easy target given the generation gap between the artists and their fan bases, but it threatened to grow mean. Following song #3, Steady As She Goes, Jack starts the intro’s by announcing: “OK, that was the duration of our set, we’re all done. HAAAAA! Some people, ah, some people would wish so…”

Second part of the Raconteurs extravaganza is ostensibly the “acoustic portion”, as Brendan alluded. This consists of Together and Yellow Sun, two original compositions, most likely written primarily by the more gentile Brendan. You get both, or you get one with a cover like It Ain’t Easy or A House Is Not A Motel. I absolutely love Together, the way it sounds, what it says, how it’s delivered. It contains one of the best rhymes of the millenia, to date: “I’m adding something new to the mixture, to bring a different hue to your picture.” Well done, A rhyme inside a rhyme within the lines and a subtle tongue twist on phonetically similar words to close the couplet.

Third part of the show is the heart and soul of the Raconteurs, a mini-opera in 4 parts, think of it as Jack’s 4 Seasons: Store Bought Bones – Bang Bang – Broken Boy Soldiers – Blue Veins! That is a killer 30 minutes any night. 40 minutes some nights. Once in awhile, if they are playing back-to-back shows in the same city, you’ll get a slight variance in the sequence. It’s all very alphabetical though: SBB-BB-BBS-BV. Economic use of letters, eh? Jack’s always had a thing for “3’s”, from the Stripes days. I love the acronym-cum-palindrome that the first three songs of this opera make up, SBBBBBBS. This segment of the show is live performance rock at its apex. From the extended intro to SBB, called the ‘Bane Rendition’ but eerily reminiscent of Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky, through to the muddy blues intro on Blue Veins, this is captivating music. Every song is an emotional journey from ear-splitting screams to soft whispered wishes. From hard pounding drums, courtesy of the best drummer I’ve seen onstage this year, Patrick Keeler, through to Jack’s guitar, it’s relentlessly pounding, concussive, rock n roll. Even within this segment there’s room for movement. The treatment Bang, Bang gets every night is a little different. A copper mic set up at the rear of the stage is often employed in BBS and sometimes in BB, to the chagrin of many I’m sure. The intro to Blue Veins is a song by itself and the crowd often applauds at the end, thinking they’ve heard an instrumental, before Jack explodes into the song. One night, having missed his cue to return to the mic during an instrumental break in Blue Veins, Jack treated us to a little ad-lib, spoken-word, interlude: “I looked her straight in the eyes/there was nobody else there but me and her/ and I said straight to her/ I think you know exactly what I’m talking about/ you’ve probably all been there once or twice yourself/ and for a second you probably believed it….”

From here to the end of the show it’s all gravy. This opening set doesn’t allow for much in the way of extra songs so it’s been either Steady As She Goes or Hands coupled with a cover, Headin’ for the Texas Border, more often than not. In their longer set you’re likely to get a song in here with heavy local interest…a cover of Shocking Blue in the Lower Countries or The Beatles in Liverpool…just to show you they’re paying attention.

The tour ended with no reprise of the “Jack ‘n Bob” collaboration that I witnessed in Detroit a couple years ago. Didn’t think it would happen, but you can always hope. For the most part the Dylan community took very well to the band. That made the stage comments all the more strange. People either have a finely tuned ear for criticism or they don’t get enough opinions. Though it’s absolutely of no consequence there were a couple moments in the Philly that closed the Raconteurs portion of the tour, that could be construed to be sour grapes. OK, maybe that’s a bit strong.

Besides the blurb about the early set ending quoted earlier, during Store Bought Bones, just before the song breaks into a mantric chant of “you can’t buy what you can’t find what you can’t” Jack inserts: “All the hippies say.” Hmmm, is that a shot. Maybe some spill-over from not being invited onstage? If he felt at all slighted that Dylan didn’t even thank the opening band he shouldn’t be…Dylan rarely does unless the band has a buxom, smiling babe playing fiddle.

RaconteursMetropolis Montreal QC2006-09-30

Thunder cracks! at 4 am Saturday. Happy b'day Cece. The cat scurries out of the room in fear and I spend the next hour wondering how long the rain will delay our trip to Montreal. Circumstances alter cases and we're on the road at 6 am instead of our scheduled 7 am departure time. No matter as the storm was moving south to north and we were driving west to east. Arrived in Montreal at noon to meet a fellow fan from Toronto, Dave Caley, in the parking lot opposite our hotel. Most of us are staying at the Hotel Villa De France, a bit of a risk, not like staying at the Holiday Inn. It's directly adjacent to the venue, a definite plus. The hotel used to have clientele who rented rooms by the hour but has recently undergone a change of ownership and some refurbishing. A small 20 room hotel, you have to be careful when you book if you like a private bathroom. Very European. No phone in your room. Not a not in 'extras'. The venue, and hotel, are located in the 'red light' district, a few blocks stretching beyond the Place Des Arts, a mere 15 minute walk from the heart of the entertainment district. It's not that threatening at all. Actually, it's colorful. Rooms are reasonably priced. Think I'll stay here next time I'm in the city.

This is just a quick hit into the city to catch a show from one of the premiere performing artists alive today, Jack White. Not enough time for any real sight-seeing but we are smack dab in the middle of some interesting Canadian literature birthing grounds. Our hotel is only a couple blocks from Moredecai Richler's St Urbain. Leonard Cohen's Westmount, where our host lives, is only about 15 minutes from where we are located. A world away in some respects but if you had a few hours you could take a decent tour.

Our friend Ryan is coming in from Ottawa with a posse of his friends, most special among them, his much-better half, Teri. They surprise us by getting here before their scheduled ETA, if only by a bit. Aaron and Janine are along and they still have 6 more friends stashed at another hotel. We crack the jack and green early and get in our hello's before we take off for our respective meets.

Cece and I have made our way to Brutopia on Crescent Street to hook up with a long time cyber-friend, David Hanley. We're through our first round when David shows up in time to pick up the second. The menu is not as substantial as I'd hoped so we make our way out onto St Catherines to land at a cafe with some meaty open faced sandwiches. With that detail out of the way we're back to jack 'n green at the hotel. The kids had been out shopping and Ryan drops by for 'hello's' and a round. Sooner than you'd think it was time to head into the venue. The rather lengthy lineup that formed outside the door to our hotel has been inside for a good half hour already but there's still plenty of room in front of the soundboard.

David and Cece take up residence at a table just behind the soundboard and I get ready to tape Dr Dog. I know nothing about this band, just their reviews at the Little Room messageboard where most Stripes fans think they are boring. Ryan mentioned earlier they'd opend for Clap Your Hands And Say Heee Hawww! (or some such band). That didn't lift them up any in my estimation. I thought Dr Dog was one black guy with a beat box. Turns out it's a handful of scruffy lookin' white kids playing a handful of nondescript tunes. I'll give them a more detailed listen when I transfer the recording but until then I'll wait for them to team up with Skinny Puppy and Snoop Dog for the "Three Dog Night Tour".

Another round in between sets and with little delay and less fanfare the Raconteurs are onstage.

I'm still not getting Intimate Secretary. It's fine as a 'wall of sound' warmup but it doesn't have much definition onstage. Memorable only for the audience response when Jack utters his first syllables. Cacaphony describes it well. For me the show starts with the 'call and respond' on Level, which we get in the second slot.

I've spent the better part of the afternoon describing the neat trick the Raconteurs are doing this tour. They open with the musical 'outro' to Hands and generally close the set with the full version. If you loop the tape it's a concert without a beginning or an end. So tonight we get Hands in the third slot, which is good because it's out of the way, blowing that 'loop' theory out of the water.

There's a running joke tonight that is focussed on what city is the capital of Asia. It's likely this started during some late night drinking session but it's carried over to the stage. It's not making much sense to us because we weren't in on the "you had to be there" part. Brendan guesses "Dallas" during the band intro. Jack laughs. We scratch our heads. We're informed that each of the Raconteurs has a mother and Jack closes the band introductions with: "And I'll be Jack White tonight if you want me to."

Into Brendan's homage to Pink Floyd (if you ask my wife that's any song he sings), Yellow Sun. During the most important verse, or at least my favorite verse, Brendan uses the stage to continue the Asian schtick: "We wrote our names down on the sidewalk/ Jack, is the capital of Asia...is it...Bangkok?" Good rhyme with 'sidewalk' for an impromptu interjection. Of course Jack's got nothing to rhyme his "what we meant" to, and he doesn't try to match Brendan's improv, he just plays it straight.

And that, my friends, is the 'suck-ass' portion of the show because things start to get interesting right about now.

We're into the face-smashing 5 on the 5. Got no idea where this song comes from, only have about a quarter of the lyrics down as yet. It's a substantial change in tempo that catapults Jack into the middle of the show at his 'screamo' best. A brief respite as Brendan performs It Ain't Easy, a great cover popular before most of this audience was born.

There's no 'keyboard' Jack tonight. He's impinging on Brendan's space periodically but making no move to push Fertiti of the ivories. Store Bought Bones opens with a modified introduction, not the 'spirit in the sky'version, just some funky guitar improvisations before they do the Bane rendition and explode into the main song. Rather lenghty version tonight. Jack's found some breathing room on most of the songs, they've all come a long way in the 6 months since they took this baby on the road. Especially the blues-based rockers, not so much the wussy pop stuff.

The understated lead-in to Bang Bang does little to gain the attention of the primarily francophone crowd standing near me. Normally this would be bothersome but there is no more beautiful sound than a girl talking French, so it was tolerable. This song is clocking in at near 10 minutes now and it's become the passion queen of the show. It starts, it stops, it starts, it stops...the breaks are getting longer, the transitions are getting even louder and that doesn't even include losing Jack to some extended solo's.

There's no pacing involved in the rocket-blast that is Broken Boy Soldiers. A runaway train into the encore break. Have I mentioned Patrick Keeler yet? He's a dynamo. Fast becoming my favorite rock drummer currently on the road.

Seems we're at the encore early but time flies when you're having fun. A little more of an extended break, maybe two, three minutes as the band probably takes a saline IV or at least chugs a pitcher of Perrier.

Headin' for the Texas Border picks up where BBS left off...a hundred miles an hour and out of control. Just like it's supposed to be. This song suits the persona of the Raconteurs so well. Always runnin' from the law. Snakes on a stage. Beaten, nay, broken boy soldiers. Even "Bang Bang" fits this motif as it's a story about unrequited play fighting. Always with the games and the fightin'. Boys (and men) and boys, again. Even "A House is Not A Motel" is filled with travellin' and singin' and blood.

Fan fodder next, Steady As She Goes will be fresh in the minds of the crowd as they mill about outside. That is if they didn't slip into a coma during Yellow Sun.

Show closes with the epic Blue Veins, another 10 minute jack-stravaganza. Along with Big 3 Killed My Baby and Ball and Biscuit this is the third song that will appear on Jack's career restrospective at the Smithsonian. It's that good.

We spill out onto St Catharines for a post-show meet-and-greet while the crowd moves away from our hotel. I pass on hitting any bars with the youngun's and we close the night with the show playing on the computer speakers and 'wind down' chat in the hotel room.

Breakfast plans are scuttled when real rain threatens to slow down the ride home. Cece and I are on the highway by 10 am as the kids rise from their slumber. We'll see them down the road sometime, I'm sure.

Virgin FestivalDay 2 Mumblings

A little worse for wear, very stiff but determined to see The Raconteurs, I head back to the Islands solo today. Michael's coming down a little later
and we've been left with a spare ticket. I try to sell it to a couple scalpers for face value...they don't go for it. Spend 15 minutes trying to pass
it on for free to some kids. Approach a couple groups to see if they have a friend they can phone who'd like to use the ticket. They just looked at me
strange. Must be an age thing. Or a brains thing. At the very least you'd think they'd be astute enough to take the ticket and sell it to the scalpers
themselves. In the end I refused the $20 offer and pocketed the ticket as insurance against being caught taping in the light of day.

Got the first available ferry over and was sipping a Bacardi and cola in the early afternoon sun. No rush today as i'm not doing any capture until the
fourth band comes onstage. The first set just finished, I'm out on the picnic benches looking at the skyline, excpecting Jose Feliciano next. Er, wait,
that was Lupe Fiasco that was supposed to be in the second slot. Instead DJ Champion is onstage. This doesn't entice me to come in any closer and I'm
not overly concerned, thinking there was just some traffic difficulty getting on the Island. About 5 minutes before the next act is due the screen flashes
that it will be Thrice. That's not good news. Still no announcement about WHY the changing order of appearance. I call a couple people I know who were
planning on seeing Thrice (and Wolfmother to follow) so they could hurry it up. Then I put back my drink and take up a spot near the left stacks.

Thrice came across sounding like a less intense alexisonfire. Not by much, just by a little.

WISTA rating: No.


Wolfmother - if Jack White has stolen all that's good out of Led Zeppelin, then these guys are the evil twin. Lead singer has that Robert Plant voice
thing going and the band seems to enjoy an excessive solo or ten. Especially the guy on the keyboard. First off, the keyboard is not a real rock n roll
instrument unless you play it with your heels and elbows and your name is Little Richard or Jerry Lee Lewis. Tilting the board, so it's at risk of tipping,
and twirling the reverb dials as you straffe the keys, is not music. It's a balancing act. What you're balancing is my interest in seeing new bands
against my tolerance for self-indulgence.

WISTA rating: I wouldn't run fast to avoid the band (of course I probably couldn't run fast to avoid a fire) but they'd have to be on a bill with someone
else i was looking to hear and playing directly before them.

Over to the Future Shop stage for what turns out to be the low-light of the entire weekend. The bass player from DeathFromAbove 79 has traded in the
stage for the studio. In concert with a DJ friend he's now doing an act called MSTRKRFT. This is club music, for club lovers only. I had an inkling but
Buck 65 didn't have a band, he used canned music and effects, and he was good. Of course, he had WORDS. The set got off to a terrible technical start.
First, as with the main stage, the set times have been altered, for reasons unknown and still unannounced. This is working out to my advantage as this one
has been moved FORWARD twenty minutes, meaning I'll have a little extra time to get back and comfortable for the Raconteurs. So after 20 minutes of setting
up the stage the MSTRKRFT guy comes out to find he's missing not one, but two, turntables.
"What do you do?" "I'm a DJ, I play records." "On what?" "D!oh." By the time they were located and plugged in we were at about 6:30 pm. That's when it
went downhill fast. I lasted 40 minutes before I wandered off, the incessant drone fading in the distance. It wasn't anywhere near 4:20 but it was 420 time.
I'd suggest the fans of this music lay off the "E" and switch to the chronic as well. Having said all that, who was there dancing up a storm with at least
7 girls? Buck 65! Aparently girls like guys who can dance and that may be the underlying secret.

WISTA rating: Only at the point of a gun.

It's been a great day for a concert and these Islands are an excellent location. Lot's of shade cover and rain cover though we've only needed a bit of both.
One last walk past the many booths giving away samples and hawking their wares. One more stroll along the waterfront as the lights of the city start to
do their dance, then back to the madding crowd to find a spot for the Raconteurs. That didn't look too promising as the Strokes had packed the main stage
to capacity. Just as quickly though, people started leaving at the end of the set and ample room opened up so I could make my way to within 25' of the
stage, directly in front of the right speaker banks.

Raconteurs played what is threatening to become a pretty static set. This is the first show of their fall tour, a one-off really as they launch in the
Southern US this week. Perhaps they have something in store for that tour. Highlights were Bang Bang, always. Blue Veins, from the intro to the explosion.
The extended Bane Rendition/Store Bought Bones and a nice extra verse thrown into Brendan's Yellow Moon. Jack was face-melting good when on guitar and
playful when not. Patrick Keeler I could listen to even if the band wasn't there.

One thing Jack still has to work on is his stage patter. Back in Cleveland he and Brendan engaged in a little 'Southern California' stuff. Then Jack questioned whether CA or Florida was the Sunshine State. They picked the wrong one.
Tonight Jack was mumbling about some border difficulties, and I paraphrase here: "Canada is harder to get into than East Germany!" ummm, Jack, getting into East Germany has never been tested...most people had difficulty getting out. Alive anyway. Which I think was the purpose of your joke. But that's ok. Those little call-outs mean nothing. They are there for the candy-cane kids and the cheap cheer you get when people hear their hometown mentioned through the PA system.

WISTA rating: 4 more times this year!

The Raconteurs in Ann Arbor and Cleveland2006-08-06/07

on the road again'
chasin' music with my friends.
oh right, Willie's not until next weekend but Cece and I had the pleasure of catching a couple Raconteurs shows in the company of Ryan and Teri...and some other friends along the way.

The Kids are in about noon on a scorching hot Friday, there's cold Guinness in the fridge and a refreshing pool waiting in the backyard. That's where I find them three hour later when I return from work. We have steaks and chops on the barbie but Ryan is always treated to some succulent WingMachine wings when he visits Toronto. By late evening everyone's pretty well satiated and excited about the upcoming weekend.


Morning comes early for the youngun's. One advantage to the baggage that comes with ageing...you don't need no stinkin' alarm to wake up. It's help sleeping you need.

No traffic and an uneventful trip to the state of 10,000(or more) lakes, Michigan. Shortly before crossing the border Cece spots a small highway sign promising food, The 50's Diner. Right up our alley, diner food, fuel for the soul. We are planning on stopping in Madison OH at the Nifty 50's Diner on our way home this weekend. This was quite a coincidence happening upon this little building a couple kilometers off the main highway. Same great motif...antique road signs, lots of terrific James Dean photo's, a wide assortment of Elvis memorabilia and some rather funky time pieces. A pleasant stop on a wonderful sunny day. Been making great time to here and we're set to go the distance.

That distance wasn't too far before we find ourselves in an hour and twenty minute lineup at the border. Not the worst but it sure adds a lot to a 4 hour trip. Don't be afraid of the American border, no matter what you hear on the news. If you have the proper papers, are white, middle-class and middle-aged, then chances are pretty decent you'll get through with little trouble.

One quick stop at Mount Hazel Cemetery just on the outskirts of Livonia to gaze at the tombstone of Son House, a blues great who settled in the area and inspired many an artist in his time and after...including Jack White. I'd planned on reading a biographical piece from a great travel book I have, The Tombstone Tourist, but the place was infested with nuclear hornets so we filmed from a distance after our initial approach. The cemetery on Lahser Rd is no longer in use but there are two broken down fences that lead to a circular road. He's buried in the 'lower half'. You'll know why the quotes are there if you ever visit. A very impressive stone bears his name and epitaph:



From here we're but a few minutes from our friend Jacki's place in Livonia. Her brother Craig and his girlfried Shelly are ducking a wedding to visit with us before the reception. Jacki's pups greet us at the door and make their prescence felt for a few minutes before being ushered to the spacious backyard. Margarita's are soon being poured and with Tom Waits keeping us company from the dvd player stories are traded and plans are exchanged as everyone basks in our combined good fortune. Craig does us the pleasure of playing a rendition of John Prine's Christmas in Prison, a favorite of Cece's. Ryan picks up the guitar but we shut the movie camera off 'cause it goes to his head when we pay him too much attention. Actually, he's shy and we've not as much time as we'd like.

A quick check of directions and we're off to the hotel and then to Ashley's Bar, a brewhouse and whiskey house all in one. How can you go wrong? Jacki's slated to meet us here and our friend from Bay City, Todd, has come south with a buddy, Mark. Gotta take advantage to touch base with friends when you're crossing their porch. We missed Dean this trip but we'll get him next time. Everyone finds the place in time to get a very nice meal. I settled on the pork loin in a cherry sauce, 'cause I'm in Michigan and cherry sauces are a big thing here. Ryan and I are on the streets for treats before he heads back for more drinks. Teri finds an Urban Outfitters that is just screaming out her name. I find a spot in the line at the will call window for my tickets.

No will call until doors! I step in line, hoping that I'm not too late. If they are waiting until that time to dish out the tickets I don't want to be around the block. As fortune would have it Brendan Benson and Patrick Keeler are walking the streets outside the venue. I have a momentary brain freeze and can't nail Patrick's first name so I pass on the chance to say a word to him. Brendan, however, has been cornered against a shop window by a crazed crowd of fans...ok, maybe he wasn't cornered exactly and the crowd may not have been crazed. Actually the two girls may not have even been a crowd. Bad news is I didn't have my camera, either still or video, nor a pen. So I just shake his hand, tell him the band played a kick-ass set at Lollapalooza, thanked him for the music and moved back to the line.

A wasted opportunity.
Things I should have said: "Dude, I thought Jack would be carrying this band but your performances are impressive." or
"Here's 5 buck's, there's a McDonald's around the block. Do yourself a favour and snake a burger down your throat."
Maybe next time.

Strike up a conversation in line with a Michigan State couple and their very young son. They only cross the amber/green line for really special occasions. This ranks as one, as father and son are fans of Jack White in all his incarnations.
Conversation inevitably turns to the Stripes and Dad mentions he saw Jack collaborate onstage with...wait for it...Bob Dylan of all people!
"I was there," I reply, expanding on that by letting him know I've seen Dylan a handful of times myself...in Detroit that is.
His wife chips in with; "Don't get him started on Dylan, he'll never stop." I hear that a lot. Usually it's Cece saying it.
Dad carries on with some highlights. "He did a great show at the Auditorium in Chicago a while ago."
"I was there," I reply, "with the people we have here with us today."
"Ya," he carries on, "the Comstock show was good too."
"I missed that but the other people with us today were there."
The wife, sensing they needed something unique offers up the piece de resistance; "We saw him with Willie Nelson at Cooperstown!"
"I was there," I reply, "it was the first of 7 ballpark shows that took us to New Haven, Brockton, Richmond, got a show cancelled by a hurricane in Maryland, Lexington, South Bend and quick pop out for a tour ending show in Kansas City."

Now that I had them reeling, I dropped the Rolling Thunder bomb and dusted off my broom. You see I'm sitting at 95 lifetime dates and there are four dates scheduled in my immediate area for the fall 'new album' tour. Think I'll see those and retire at 99. I mean three digits would be excessive, eh?

Will call's open...woo hoo, shouldn't be long now.

Or so I thought.

Should be easy. Tickets in alphabetical order. Slightly complicated by the fact they had two window open. Further complicated by the fact there were two piles of tickets: one for ticketmaster will call, one for fan club will call. Add to this that people are showing up without the proper papers and we aren't two patrons in before there's four piles of tickets and mass confusion. At least we're close.

Inside the venue in plenty of time. Sweet place this Michigan Theater. We got great seats about 11 rows back, dead center. Show opens on time with a 45 minute set from Kelley Stoltz. What can I say about Kelley? Why don't I start where I always do...with completely unfounded subjective opinions that don't speak to his talent at all. (You should read my Ron Sexsmith review.) First off, your music career should take off before your hair does. Or wear a hat. (See Dwight Yoakum)
Secondly, lose the keyboards at the front of the stage and the attached 'fuzz wheel thingie'. You've got someone to play those, it clutters the stage up and it's ruining Bob Dylan's current show (not that you're to blame for that). The distortion thing has been done by Hendrix, you can't do it better.
Third, name the starting line-up of the 1951-1952 Red Wings.

He played a 45 minute set with a few promising spots. Best among them was one about your mother knowing more about you than you can sleep with, I think, a song called Memory Collector. Early musical highlights of the set were the 'pennywhistle song' and some nice sounding slide work on Birdies Singing.

Spoken-word highlight of the set was an attempt to name the roster of the World Champion Detroit Tigers of 1984. Over two songs. Apparently he's recorded this. Hopefully the second take 'cause tonight he leaves out the starting catcher, Lance Parrish. It was fun, the moment represented his greatest success in engaging the somewhat disinterested and docile crowd. Perhaps sensing this Kelley takes a page from the Wilco "How to Treat the People Who Pay Your Salary When They Don't KowTow" handbook and tries to goad them into standing. "You just relax now, in 30 minutes you'll be going crazy." I'm left thinking that's more a reflection of the difference between his set and the next one rather than any cosmic change the crowd is going to undergo in the intervening half hour. Not sure if that was his point. The real point is he was up against that dreaded nemesis of all opening acts: anticipation!

The set does close strong with some gutsy, almost garage-rock songs. This is why he doesn't need that extra keyboard. More guitars. And more cowbell, can't get enough of that. Kelley is a local boy and besides the homage to the baseball greats he tosses out a couple other area references: a tip of the hat to upholstery legends, The Muldoons and a comment about spending all his extra cash in the record stores of Ann Arbor.

Now the niceties are out of the way, time for the main course. I comment to Cece that it's not a good sign the two seats directly in front of us have remained empty through the opening set right up to this moment...minutes before the Raconteurs are set to take the stage. That likely means one thing and one thing only. The owners of those seats are still in the bar and have been there a while. Sure enough, as the preshow music is playing, in stumbles a drunk and his younger brother. And he's talkative, just my luck. I do my best to be polite but firm...I'm here to watch the band, not chat with the spawn of WCFields. His brother keeps interjecting helpful, if perhaps too subtle, hints like: "Shut the fuck up, will ya?" and "They don't want to hear you." The drunk brother offers up the information that the younger one is simply paranoid 'cause he likes to smoke the chronic weed. He further spews onto me the information that he's been drinking Jagermeister all night. I reply, "Really? I never would have guessed." When the band takes the stage he turns around and... doesn't make another sound all through the evening, just thoroughly enjoys himself without making a nuisance. That's what drinkin' is all about when it's done right.

So have you heard about the Raconteurs?


Before you continue reading go to their site using the link above. Find where they are on tour near you, or far from you. Get tickets. Then come back and find out why, but don't waste a second getting the tickets. Tempus fugit.

Jack White is a seminal talent.
An artist for his generation.
The Fourth Face on the Mount Rushmore of Rock:
Robert Johnson, Elvis Presley, Bob Dylan and Jack White.
Unconscious talent.
Normally i try to stay away from the hyperbolic and this is one of those times.

And now he's in a band. OK, so we got that over with.

The band has been trying hard to develop a distinct personality. Jack refuses to field questions about the White Stripes when they are doing press. Don't ask about Meg and whether she's back in Switzerland spittin' out twins either. He won't tell. He might answer a question or two about the model chick and how she dresses him much better these days but I wouldn't ask it if I'm in arms length. He has a temper, doncha know? I digress...which is my middle name.

Anyway, the sound of the band, during their first 20 shows or so, has been a little muted. The album is wonderful, a very good collaboration on such short time. The rhythm section is made up of two young guys from The Greenhornes: Patrick Keeler on drums and Jack Lawrence, (the creepy/cute lookin' Deliverence/Revenge of the Nerds guy, depending on your bias. I think he's one cool dude wrapped up in a geek outfit)on bass. They've brought along another local player to fill out the sound on keyboards and extra-guitar. And Brendan's there, taking most of the vocal duties (about 60/40), some guitar work (about 30/70) and splitting the 'cuteness quotient' evenly at 25% with the other three. His voice is terrific. Better than Jack's. Not as interesting, but better.

The biggest factor in developing a style distinct from the Stripes, other than the extra band members, has been the song selection. The original songs come from Jack and Brendan I assume but it's the covers that are different. No more Dylan. No more delta blues via Son House, Robert Johnson or Blind Willie McTell. Instead we get a 'glam rock' cover in It Ain't Easy, a 'diva' cover in Bang,Bang, (whether you remember it as a Cher tune or a Nancy Sinatra tune) and assorted garage band covers.

In the early live shows it seems Jack has been putting a lid on some of his more extravagant guitar moves. Over the past few weeks that has been removed. It's been evident on the latter recordings but the final proof was posited this weekend. The Lollapalooza set from August 4th was webcast and it was a one-hour smashfest. It's coming out time for the Raconteurs.

The sound in the venue is a bit 'muddy' and VERY LOUD. As in, I've seen a large number of shows since I was first exposed to Alice Cooper back in 1972 and this was the SECOND LOUDEST show ever. Ear-drum rattling, teeth chattering, bone splinterin', seat vibratin', LOUD. So when I say 'muddy' i don't mean that in a bad way but in a Phil Spector wall-to-wall kind of way.

An instrumental jam that contains the riff from Hands opens the show and morphs into Intimate Secretary. The crowd responds wildly to Jack's couplet in the opening verse and the band drowns it out with noise. Jack shouts out to Iggy Pop (who's in the audience) and the Stooges as the song closes.

Without delay we're into Level with that great little vocal 'call and response' duet on the repetitive intro before it explodes into a balls out narrative on the difference between a 22 year old girl and a 22 year old boy. One's worthy. Still on the Stooges theme, sort of, more 3 Stooges really, Jack and Brendan are engaged in a little wrestling match-cum- head butting contest as they trade guitar links. Jack, pesky little gnome that he is, waits until Brendan is leaning hard against him (think about it, Jack is one buffed specimen of manhood and Brendan looks like he's just been released from rehab)

Jack's at the mic imploring the fans to clap along to the next song, telling us he won't be offended if we do...the number 3 slot for your hit single, Steady As She Goes. I guess they were trying to find something along the lines of Father and Son by Cat Stevens or My Way by Paul Anka...just missed it by 'this much'. Good advice in any case... find yourself a girl, settle down. If you find the right one it's all you need.

Acoustic guitars, another short head-to-head confab between Brendan and Jack, then we're into the wonderful story of a lifetime...ummm, Together, with a caveat. A mind-blowing couplet in this song. Don't know who wrote it but it works on so many levels, both as a biographical note and a promise of future excitement in this relationship: "I'm adding something new to the mixture/ so there's a different hue to the picture..." That's a very cool rhyme. I thought Jack sang this line so I was a little surprised to see Brendan slide over to the other vocal mic and raise the tone of his voice a little to sound very much like Jack, when he gets into that helium-phase.

Brendan stays forward for It Ain't Easy, the aformentioned 'glamrock' cover. True to it's original flavour it's both a crowd-pleaser and a worthy version. Maybe next tour we'll get Rebel, Rebel from Jack in this slot.

The record's been out about a nanosecond, the band is only twice that age, so i guess it's time for the remixes to start coming out. There's something that has been put on the B-side of a single called the "Bane Rendition". It's being used as the rather extended intro to Store Bought Bones, an alternate version, then the album version. Now I don't know who the fuck Bane is but he owes Norman Greenbaum some royalties 'cause that's "Spirit in the Sky" dudes. Of course, it's not Spirit in the Sky as it changes into a rollicking SBB.

Next up, highlight of the evening, a cover of Sonny Bono's Bang Bang, first released in 1966 with Cher's terrific vocals. Showing the awesome and fearsome power of contemporary popular culture, most people reference the Nancy Sinatra version that made it to the soundtrack of Quentin Tarantino's homage to the cuisinart, Kill Bill (again and again). Jack has made it his own. Excruciatingly pleasureful and increasingly lengthy delays before the delivery of 'bang bang', followed by the crashing thunder of the 5 man, mostly electrical, band. Then, as the song develops, the 'bang bang' becomes a primal scream and the band's response a barrage of note bombs. All this wrapped around a soulful, crying, guitar line.

At this point I'm starting to hope my recording doesn't come out.
This stuff is too good to give away.
You should have to be here as a witness.

There's no rest for the wicked and we're fast into Broken Boy Soldiers, another sonic boom song. Jack makes more use of the 'mega-mic', a microphone that acts like a fuzz-box, distorting his voice, making it...wait for it...shrill, if you can believe one can make the distinction. Sounds like he's doing that Winchester Cathedral song with the megaphone. (You will now be able to do the math, ascertain my age and know why I can't hear the high notes.)

Yellow Sun follows, more acoustic but no less quick. Blistering fast pace to most of the songs and though this could be deemed one of only two 'mellow' songs on the album, and though there's a colour in the title, there's nothing mello yello about this one. Another cautionary tale wrapped up in a pretty melody. Fear conquers love.

Another extended, experimental jam to open the last song of the main set, Blue Veins. If Steady As She Goes may be poking fun at 'settling down' there's no doubt this song is about the virtues of unconditional true (blue) love. It's an epic song. A career-maker for anybody but Jack. I kinda like it.

Encore break.

One minute later the show closes with a second nod to Iggy Pop as BrenJa play a riff from TV Eye before launching into a cover of the Flamin' Groovies Heading For the Texas Border. QUICK, somebody call The Standells, their Dirty Water has been totally ripped off. At the very least let Status Quo know things have changed.

And we close with Hands.

That was one kick-ass show.


Off to a bar attached to the parking garage as pre-arranged by jacki. There are still tables when we get there, a distinct advantage of going to a show with a predominantly underage crowd. I waive to Cece to grab one of those tables as I head towards the lineup at the bar. Unbeknownst to me everybody at the table was ordering drinks and being served while I patiently waited my turn. Fearing it would be hard to get back I add a couple Long Island Ice Teas to the order of 1 pitcher of Stella Artois. There was barely enough room on the table to fit it all on. Cece, ever the trooper, downs her Jack&Coke and takes one of the Iced Teas off my hands. Ryan and Todd help out with the pitcher of beer. In the end I was probably not TOO impaired as I left the bar.
Great conversation, as always when we get together with different groups of friends on the road. I mean if you can't have fun when you're out catching live music...then when can you have fun?
Todd and Mark are working on a theater production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that is going to knock the socks off of the natives of Saginaw, MI. They'll just be standin' there in their bvd's with their leg suspenders and no socks. Here's some information on it if you're in the area and up for a good time:

The 303 Collective presents

THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW
by Richard O'Brien

directed by Stasi Schaeffer
musical direction by Noel Howland
scenic design by Marc Beaudin

featuring:

Caitlin Berry
Paul Kostrezwa
Natalie Myers
Brian Bateson
Deena Nicol
Kristyn Hemmingway
Todd Berner
Honesty Elliott
Samantha Whetstone
Scott Warnke


August 17, 18, 20, 25, 27 at 8:00 pm
August 19 and 26 at Midnight!

Tickets: $10 ($8 for students)
Call 989-980-7746 for reservations

The 303

303 Adams at Niagara, Old Town Saginaw

Here's a MAP and a key to their door.

Jacki's lookin' forward to a few upcoming Tom Waits dates.
Ryan and Teri are petitioning the Government of Canada to see if they can be adopted but not leave their real parents.
We're thanking whoever is in charge for the stuff that comes our way.

Everyone concurs, it was LOUD. Not sure if I mentioned that earlier.

Sleep and off to Cleveland in the morning.

For some reason I can't understand I am having trouble making up time on the highway. It's not that I'm driving slow, it's just taking longer than expected.
I mean, we left at 9:00, the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame is only 2 and a half hours away and we're pulling into the parking lot sometime after 12. I know it ain't a lot but i get a little compulsive about these things. I think it was the construction. NO, that's not it... it was Denny's. Took about a half hour to get our food after ordering. Ordering wasn't quick either. It was getting so bad I almost asked the waitress if there was something wrong. Like were we black or something. (Wife's Note: Please don't flame Marcel. This is not meant to be a reflection on the African-American community. It's a reference to this fiascoamong others.)
Food was good though, if too plentiful. I can only imagine there are mothers in China telling their children: "You just be grateful you don't have to eat all the food those kids in America do!"

Is there a line here? Have I stepped over it yet?

So, we're at the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame to see the fabled Bob Dylan's American Journey 1956-1966 Two words: Over Rated.
Lot's of cool artifacts but how long can you stare at a handwritten page containing the lyrics to Blowin' in the Wind? Or a musical instrument? Or listening to an album version of a song...one floor was taken up with this type of 'interactive' pablum. You could spend a day here if you want to sit through every official movie release they play in the theater. The highlight of the exhibit was finding the monitor that showed the outtake from Eat the Document where a whacked-out Bob was doing some stream-of-consciousness, or verbal vomit exercise, with a business sign that contained the words; bird, bath, dog and commission, among others. It's an extended version where Bob moves away, then back to continue for another gut-splitting 30 seconds. I played it over three times. Would have done it more but it was time to go.

Cece spent a little time walking through the Roy Orbison exhibit. More modest but because of that, less disappointing. We did a 'power sweep' of the other stuff on display. Not much depth to anything. I've seen more interesting shit in collections owned by friends. Maybe I'm just jaded.


The hotel's not ready with our room. Everything is closed in Cleveland on Sunday. Works calling on the phone every 15 minutes. How can things get worse? Well, they can't, which is why they started getting infinitely better.

We stop by the House of Blues to pick up our will call tickets. Box office is open and though it takes them a second to find Teri's order (those TWO separate piles again and that requirement to memorize the order of 26 consecutive letters) the girl in the cage was otherwise very helpful. She clued us in to a little known anomaly about the venue. If you ate at the restaurant attached to it you were given early entry! Before they opened the external doors. As we were looking for a place to eat in this closed-down city and a comfortable spot for the show, we couldn't turn down the offer. Now being novices, we didn't make the best of it but we still ended up with prime seats of our choice.

Dinner was great, our waiter was a boisterous fella who was also a big Bob Dylan fan. Go figure. We find ourselves about 20 people back in the line for early entry once we've finished our meal and quaffed a few drinks. We are also stuck in an unairconditioned hallway that is the service entrance to the restaurant. The line-up starts precicely at 4 pm, when the restaurant opens. The doors to the venue open at 7:15 pm. It's getting warm and it's only 5:30 pm. If you want to do this early entry thing right send one of your party to the waiting area at 4 pm. Hand them a drink. Rotate every 20 minutes.

While waiting in line we met another well travelled couple. I chose not to play "i'll show you mine, if you show me yours" with them.

Early on it's very comfortable. Not until about an hour before promised doors does the line start to double-back, making it precarious for those at the end hoping to keep their place. The venue security starts to move people into tighter lines and they bring people from the back to form a second, then a third, and by the time we were ready to enter, a fourth line. Now it looked like we were about 150 people back and not too happy about it. I voiced a mild displeasure about what seemed to be a gross injustice, until the security properly separated the lines upon opening the door and we were in like Flynn. The balcony called. Not only was it wide open but it was theater seating! Front row, very tight to the stage. Excellent.

I'm not taping Kelley Stoltz because the security people threatened to confiscate any media they caught in use during the show. Plus, I need some time to drink. A shame too because it turns out to be a much more engaging set than last evening, due primarily to a very excited GA crowd that was happy to be warmed up by some talented artists; an advantage to having less hair...it likely means you've been paying your dues and developing. Not sure they can take my rig but I'm taking the least amount of chances possible. As it is it was a little difficult getting by the metal detectors. Good thing Cece noticed them on the security in enough time to allow me to change my subterfuge.


The sound tonight is much better than last night. They are using the house amps, not their own bank. It's crystal clear and still LOUD. REALLY LOUD. It made Cece's hair move. It made Ryan's shirt move. It made my seat vibrate but I wasn't telling anybody in case it was just the dinner I had.

Much the same show. The high level of excitement and excellence is still there. Jack is using up all of the small stage he has available with his fluid moves back and forth, to and fro. It's obvious he coulda been a dancer in another lifetime. Brendan stomps about the stage a bit too.

Some songs are much longer this evening. All the players taking liberty with their solo's on this tour ending show. Bang, Bang is even more explosive than last evening, if that's possible. We lose It Ain't Easy and Heading For the Texas Border but get 5 songs in their place: 5 on the 5; a cover honoring the recently departed Arthur Lee, A House Is Not A Hotel; an unknown bluesy song; Crazy, a cover of the Gnarls Barkley hit of the summer and a super-sped up version of Call It A Day, from the first Raconteurs album, almost unrecognizable.

Excellent outing, very impressive band.

Next morning finds us skipping our stop at the Nifty 50's Diner in Madison OH because our guests have another 5+ hours on the bus to get them to their home after we've driven the 5 hours from Cleveland.

Just one more enjoyable and successful outing in pursuit of a couple hours of entertainment each night.


Next weekend: Jonny Lang in New Hampshire and Willie Nelson/John Fogerty in Darien Lake.