Neumo's Swoons for Jack White and The Raconteurs
"I love you, Jack!"
"You fuckin' rawk, Jack!"
"Jaaaaaaaaaaaack!"
At Neumo's on Monday night, two minutes didn't pass without someone yelling The Raconteurs' most famous member's first name.
Actually, the Jack-ulation started before the bitty venue opened its doors. The line, which formed early and extended down along Pike, buzzed with adulation for the guy. Dudes discussed his "legendary blues guitar." They chatted about how his half of the White Stripes "kicked so much ass." Two fans behind Seattlest didn't even have tickets; they hoped to get in to see Jack White via crisp $100 bills.
The man and his guitar-playing have that effect on people. His pasty pallor and everyguy frame makes the average guy feel special. His seemingly effortless manipulation of his instrument inspires awe. And The Raconteurs—who combine blues, rock, and pop to pump out their own elevated brand of catchy tuneage—only amplify his mystique. Yes, he runs the Stripes show, but with a complete band wrapped around his heavy, warped riffs and raw vocal stylings, Jack White is somehow even more the classic rock frontman—even though he shares Raconteurs mic duty with another talented, classically rock-handsome singer and guitar player, Brendon Benson.
The crowd's singular anticipation was a double-edged sword for fuzzy, skinny-pants-wearing, North Carolina-bred opener Birds of Avalon. The place was packed for their entire set, and their raucous, multi-guitar songs (courtesy of Cheetie Kumar, Paul Silar, and bassist David Mueller) had heads bobbing. But interest gave way to impatience in small pockets; after singer Craig Tilley released a paper bag of wing-flapping plastic birds into the crowd, someone yelled "Who are you guys?" Not helping was the sound—Tilley's voice was a muffled mystery beneath a pounding, atmospheric wall of riffage and cymbals. (We'll assume the boards lacked fine-tuning and hope to be proven right another day.)
When the Raconteurs took the stage, they wasted no time getting the crowd into a bouncing, tropical heat-producing frenzy. Having no elbow room or downtime to jot down song titles, we can't tell you what the band played first, or the order of their setlist, but it's safe to say they ripped through most of their two-record, blues-dipped rock oeuvre. Of course there were the Broken Boy Soldiers singles—"Steady, As She Goes" and "Level" (see YouTube), and "Salute Your Solution" from their surprise!-released new album, Consolers of the Lonely. "Intimate Secretary" got everyone spastic; "Blue Veins" brought them back down again. The fiddle in "Old Enough" was a down-home treat. The extended psychedelic jam in "Rich Kid Blues"—just one of the many songs in which Jack and Brendon traded like-voiced verses—elicited more "Jaaaaaaaaack"s than any other song.
Not surprisingly, each tune strayed a bit from its recorded version; Jack isn't capable of playing a riff the same way twice. So where the albums' tracks succeed with their structured pacing, their live counterparts impressed by being beefed up, stretched out, and pulled into single piercing notes. Jack played three or four guitars during the 90 minute show, swapping them seemingly at random, but favoring a flashy brass-plated model that included a pull-out microphone in its butt.
The tiny stage, sliced even smaller by drummer Patrick Keeler's kit platform, made movement awkward for Jack, Brendon, and Corey Feldman doppelganger/bassist Jack Lawrence—at times Mr. White seemed frustrated with the containment, glancing over his shoulder at the platform after chucking his heels against it mid-solo. But what was a mild inconvenience to the band was to the crowd's benefit; even at the floor's greatest distance or on the balcony's farthest edge, the view was fantastic.
The Raconteurs' closer, melodramatic murder tale "Carolina Drama," (which also closes the new album), put a perfectly moody cap on their half-hour, extra-energy encore. And as the last lingering note echoed through the place, the band lined up to flash grins and take bows. Given the appreciative smile on Jack's face, he must have felt all that love hurled at him throughout the night.
And that smile, of course, only generated more.
