The White Stripes played fifteen shows in 1999. Only three of those occurred in any approximate vicinity of others (the late September sojourn opening for Pavement) meaning each one of the shows from ‘99 exists in a vacuum, with new songs flying in and different arrangements making themselves known, no real established running order or pacing/tempo/meter/cadence. All but four of these shows were recorded in some manner, which still feels like a tiny miracle given how unknown and unheralded the band was at this juncture.
Outside of the Stripes show from the Gold Dollar, August 14th 1997, this July 30th, 1999 gig is the White Stripes show that I have listened to the most in my life. No doubt I immediately popped this sumbitch into the cassette deck of the ‘95 Ford Taurus on the way home from the show and would continue to come back to it for years. It lives in my head rent free, iconic and memorized and encased in amber, a memory reinforced by the consistent reliving of it over the past twenty-five years that it’s foundationally unparalleled in my understanding of the band.
When I listen now, what immediately grabs me is the piano. The piano!!! Oh man, it felt like a huge coup to get the powers-that-be at the Bag to actually let Jack play the thing, a seemingly “fancy” instrument that lived on the stage but was always covered up when bands of their ilk were in the house. In comparison, the powers that be would not let the band use the projection/video screen (they softened that stance by the De Stijl album release show the following year).
Twenty years after the show, dear friend (and White Stripes roadie in arms) Brandon Beaver mailed me a stack of Polaroid pictures that I had taken at the show. I had completely forgotten about this, because, well, it wasn’t in the recording. They hadn’t informed my recollection, my mind canon of it all. I was surprised to see the piano, this grand (baby grand?) beast covered in the red-and-white stripes of an American flag that was previously used as a stage backdrop as depicted on the cover of TMR-345. The visual of it all is striking, it is visually compelling and indicates a modicum of extra effort that separated the Stripes from their peers at the time.
Couple that with the fact that in the rehearsals leading up to the show, Jack and Meg had repeatedly practiced a cover of the song “Do You Love Me Now?” originally by the Breeders. I still don’t know why they didn’t play it that night…the moments in rehearsal were solid and worthy of being trotted out on stage. It sounded damn cool. The fact that the band never recorded a version of this song is one of the bigger frustrations in the “Shit The White Stripes Should Have Done” list in my head.
The recording here is the first time that a piano or any keys are ever used live in a White Stripes performance and it’s beautiful.
Terry Cox was the sound man on this night. At the time he was the front-of-house engineer at the Magic Stick, so I’m not really sure why he was at the Magic Bag this evening. But with Terry behind the mixing desk, the band got a more-familiar set of ears working in their favor, as opposed to some rando without a clue as to what the band sounded like. The reverb on vocals “Love Sick” is a prime example of the special touch Terry brought to the mix. Reverb on the snare too. Actually, it’s just a shit ton of reverb. The whole show sounds “BIG” in a way that no other recording from this era ever would. God bless Terry.
“Love Sick” here is the Stripes first ever performance of the song, not even two years old by this point, the highlight of Bob Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind album from 1997. It sounds important. It sounds serious. It sounds like it is a harbinger of bigger things to come.
Followed by “Dead Leaves” which, by this point, still hadn’t truly found its form. A piano take on the song is still a rare outing, so even though it is by far the song the band played most in their career, I’m unclear if it was ever done exclusively on piano again.
The tension here is palpable. Between “Dead Leaves” and “St. James” someone shouts something in the crowd. At 2:04 and again at 2:07. You can just barely hear it. Wouldn’t be a stretch to think they’re screaming “Fuck you!” Whatever is said, Jack responds with “You’re a liar,” echoing Dylan’s retort at the Manchester Free Trade Hall in 1966 to a member of the crowd shouting “Judas!”
Couple that with the intro to “Astro” where Jack extemporaneously sings “I’m gonna kill my brother Jack” from Meg’s perspective, to the tune of “Three Little Fishies” a child-like number 1 hit from 1939. I recall Meg responding to this moment with a dismissive laugh, but still, I remember feeling uncomfortable. It was awkward.
But at some point, it all changes, the air is cleared, so to speak. Everything feels…understood? Accepted? Light-hearted even? Having thought about this many times over the intervening 25 years, I just know that while the first half of the set embodies a tension, the second half emboldens a joy throughout. Listening now, I smile. I feel happy.
As Jack is ready to end the performance with “Broken Bricks” you can hear Kevin Peyok (The Waxwings, Jack White and The Bricks) and Ko Shih (The Dirtbombs, Ko and The Knockouts) repeatedly yell “SAME BOY!” while Jack is thanking the opening bands the Greenhornes and Clone Defects.
Isn’t it great when folks request an unreleased song? Kevin would know the song from playing it with the Bricks just three weeks earlier, but even so, the three Stripes performances of the song earlier this year were already enough to embed it into the consciousness of fan/friends in teh crow. And with an “aw shucks” manner Jack responds “You wanna hear ‘Same Boy’? Alright I’ll play that.”
Come the encore of “You’ve Got Her In Your Pocket”, another Stripes live debut that wouldn’t see a studio release for another FOUR YEARS, it all is sweet and dare I say wholesome. With just Jack and the piano, here is a worthy reminder that there’s no such thing as an off performance of “Pocket” as the tender emotion is palpable whenever it was performed and only more so if it was just Jack playing it.
With Jack asking “What do you want to hear?” it’s worth noting how rare it is to hear him openly take a request, especially in light of already taking one with “Same Boy.” Funnily enough, we don’t hear anyone yell anything in response. At the culmination of a blistering “Broken Bricks” Jack sheepishly gives notice that the gig is over…that he broke a string and that Meg has mono.
“She’s tuckered out…so say a little prayer for her and say a little prayer for yourself” he offers up. Jack didn’t have to say that. No one would have begrudged the band ending the show at that point without any indication as to why no more songs were performed. It was already a decently full set. But the sincerity, the honesty, the essence of “we have given you our all” coupled with a “you are released” sews up this oddity of a show perfectly.
