The White Stripes Live at the Magic Stick April 17th, 1999

There are moments, ever so brief, that feel like an entire room has catalyzed and are all

speaking the same language. Even if speaking vaguely or in code, everyone understands fully.

So while I cannot speak for the rest of the 100 or so folks that were at the Magic Stick on April

17th, 1999, I can speak to how *I* felt.

For establishing purposes, exactly 25 years ago, on April 17th, 1999 the White Stripes played in

the middle of a bill with Gore Gore Girls opening and the Compulsive Gamblers headlining. I

was sixteen years old.

Barely a month earlier, it appeared that the White Stripes were done. With their cessation being

reported in the Detroit News, the fact that a DAILY newspaper was covering such underground

countercultural gossip still feels beguiling. Yet in the span of a few weeks, the Stripes had

played a triumphant non-farewell show (March 13th, 1999) and were most definitely soldiering

on, while Jack White’s other current musical concern, the Go, had unceremoniously kicked him

out.

I guess this was relatively big news in the small world of Detroit garage rock. In hindsight, it

seems pretty insignificant. So when the Stripes roll into “Astro” at the tail end of their set and

Jack substitutes in the names of his former bandmates in the Go “Bobby”, “Marc” and “John” as

“do(es) the astro” the feeling in the air, to me, was “oh man, he’s giving it to ‘em.”

To follow it up with the ending verse impromptu singing “Maybe someone has an ego!”

and “Why don’t you do what you want to, girl?” (with what I would interpret as foreshadowing of

future attack-like songs as “There’s No Home For You Here (Girl)” and “Girl, You Have No Faith

In Medicine”) and it all had the allure of an up-to-the-minute newscast, made up in real time, for

the couple dozens friends and scenesters gathered there that evening, all of whom knew the

score.

As the song concluded, you faintly hear a request for the Go song “Meet Me At The Movies” to

which Jack replies on mic “Somebody wanna hear “Meet Me At The Movies?” It’s the wrong

band!”

The Stripes performance, overall, is just so different from any single show they’d ever played

before or would play after. First ever appearances of gems like covers of Iggy Pop’s “I’m Bored”

and Earl King’s “Trick Bag” (done in the style of the Gories) alongside Jack and Meg’s first ever

performance of “The Same Boy You’ve Always Known.” They also cover Brendan Benson’s

“Crosseyed” for seemingly the only time ever with Brendan himself smack dab front and center

watching the proceedings.

Interesting little moments abound…the show-opening “I’m Bored” is quickly scuttled as Meg’s

bass drum pedal snaps. She coordinates a quick replacement with Deb Agolli (drummer for

openers the Gore Gore Girls) that precipitates Jack’s solo take on “Trick Bag”

(For years my recall is that I was up there helping Meg attach the borrowed pedal to her kick

drum. But just now, at this moment, I’m half-thinking that I watched it from the crowd. In my

head, I see Deb, coincidentally wearing red and white, behind the drums with Meg. But I also

see myself crouched down, futzing in the dark, helping Meg. The video of the show conveniently

shows neither myself nor Deb onstage during any of this. There’s a possibility my memories are

lies)

But once all is back up-to-speed, Jack just starts “I’m Bored” from the beginning.

There’s a simplicity to taking the song from the top, an innocence to it, a “we’re gonna do this

right” stick-to-it-iveness that I tend to think most bands would not actually endeavor. Most bands

would just move past it and try to pretend that they never even attempted the song in the first

place, let alone start their set with it.

And that’s just one of many reasons why the White Stripes were objectively great from such an

early point in their career.

Other treats include an early run of “The Big Three Killed My Baby” that does not start with the

trilling three scratches of the guitar. Seemingly every version performed afterwards would start

just like the album recording…with those ominous trills. Jack introduces Meg as his little sister.

Jack also, for the first time we’ve documented, signed off the show with a “My sister thanks you

and I thank you.” Little Easter eggs all of them.

And while there’s no real evidence here to point to proving so, we all know that this is the

evening that Jack White would pay a couple hundred bucks to Compulsive Gambler’s Jack

Yarber for his red Airline guitar that in short order would become an iconic piece of the White

Stripes imagery.

My favorite moment of the entire show unfolds in the middle break of “Astro” where Jack drops a

curveball…

What did the hen dog say to the snake?

No more crawfish in this lake

Just a hair, just a little bit, just a hair, just a little bit

Well what did the woman who came to the side,

one hand on her leg, one hand on her thigh

Good lord, have mercy, good lord, have mercy

This is a slightly altered take on George Johnson’s version of “Jack The Rabbit” as featured in

the 1978 John Lomax film The Land Where The Blues Began. Johnson was a gandy dancer, a

now-obsolete job of manual railroad track maintenance. This is a work song, plain and simple,

Johnson’s repeated lines of “just a hair, just a little bit” actually instructions to the rest of his

crew in regards to which increment or degree they should be adjusting the track. It’s chilling, it’s

got unforced attitude, it’s beautiful.

In sharing this clip with Jack this week, twenty-five years later, he said he had absolutely no

recollection of what it was or where it even came from.

But it felt so familiar, both then and now. Like a nursery rhyme I’d heard my entire life. Like

something EVERYONE had heard their entire life, certainly everyone in the room. Like it was

meant to be there, that it had always been there, and would always be there, smack dab in the

middle of “Astro.” 

The point I’m trying to make is that for these fleeting moments on this night, the demarcation of

stage and floor were largely irrelevant. What was happening wasn’t a band playing for a crowd.

What was happening was a conversation, an education, a therapy, a laugh, a finger-pointing, all

wrapped into one. And so much of it, hell, maybe all of it, happened just that once, seemingly to

be experienced only by those in the room. Fleeting.

So should you give a shit that this is effectively a spruced-up audience recording? Not in the

least. Just sit back and enjoy all the swirling different factors and reactors that melted together

to create a one-of-a-kind evening a quarter of a century ago.

Listen here...https://www.nugs.net/live-download-of-the-white-stripes-the-magic-stick-detroit-mi-04-17-1999-mp3-flac-or-online-music-streaming/36808.html

The White Stripes Live at the Ritz, Raleigh, NC 9-26-99

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Direct quote from the tour diary "The 'Ritz' is anything but, although it holds about 2400 people + gave us a $10 buyout. The backstage was spacious + clean + for some reason Jack was fascinated w/ the ceiling tiles...Stripes made $70+ in merch and the show was more tempo consistent but there were some more mistakes than last night." 

Apparently we lied to the front desk of the Comfort Inn on this evening and said that only two people would be staying in the room that night. It was actually four of us in there. The next day we went to five different places in town looking for an A/C adapter (I think for Jack's Whammy pedal) and in the process drove the rented green minivan 20 miles the wrong way. Jack's post-song banter regarding "Wasting My Time" and his dedication of "The Big Three Killed My Baby" to Preston Tucker are both innocently charming here.  The impromptu cover of Earl King's "Trick Bag" via the Gories version of the same song is full of swagger and would be one of only two times the Stripes were captured doing the song. I dig it.

This combination of songs, the manner in which they're played, the overall vibe of the whole thing...it is all entirely unique to the three shows that the White Stripes played opening for Pavement in September 1999. The Stripes never really held this vibe previously and would never land on it again. I guess it's a matter of opinion whether or not that's a good thing or a bad thing.  The fact it was their first-ever time playing three shows in three days feels significant and as the first bout of anything that could even in the loosest sense of the term be called a "tour" should make us all glad that there would be more of such endeavors. I guess there's probably an alternate reality where these gigs are pure disasters and it scares off Jack and Meg from putting themselves out there, maybe they don't hop in the van a year later when Sleater-Kinney asks 'em to open. The entirety of the White Stripes career is a collection of fortunate opportunities leading to even more fortunate and opportune possibilities. In the end, optimism and positivity tends to win out.

I was seventeen years old at the time of this show. Looking back over twenty years later my inclusion in the reindeer games seems and feels kind of unnecessary, yet I am insanely grateful I was there. Most importantly, I convinced the sound guy to record the show on a cassette and now we can all enjoy and dissect what went down in that half-empty room so many moons ago.

The White Stripes at the Detroit Institute of Arts

 “That was the best thing we’ve ever done. It was also the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

 

So were the thoughts expressed by a long-forgotten big wig at the Detroit Institute of Arts. What they had “done” was bring in the White Stripes to perform two sets in the hallowed Diego Rivera Court. When booked, the White Stripes were moderately ascendent. By the time of the performance on November 2nd, 2001, they were stratospheric and lava hot. The performance, all guts and glory and emotion and resplendent joy, had pulled in THOUSANDS to the Beaux Arts-style building that day, the museum’s largest single-day attendance in over seventy years of existence. That was the best part.

 

The “worst” part was those thousands, many of whom had not set foot in the building since grade school field trips, really had no idea about the space they were occupying. Completely enveloped by 27 larger-than-life scenes conceived and executed by Diego Rivera in 1932-33, the Detroit Industry Murals stand as one of the most breathtaking and important displays of art in the city, if not beyond. As a stylized near-deification of automobile plants, communal labor, racial harmony and vaccination, the murals themselves (done as frescoes, paint applied to wet plaster) once dried, form an integral part of the wall.

 

But rock and roll fans of 2001 cared not. With the court well beyond capacity and the overflow crowd spilling deep into the adjacent Great Hall, over-eager attendees were climbing the planters in front of the massive expanses of both the north and south walls. Desperate for a better view, a clear line of sight or just caught up in the electricity of the moment, people were carelessly touching, casually rubbing and leaning against these priceless works of irreplaceable art at the heart of the literal, metaphorical and historical cultural center of Detroit. Risking the destruction of valued fresco history all just for the hope of catching a glimpse of what was, in 2001, the NOW cultural heartbeat of the city.

 

Thankfully, the only noticeable damage done on that evening was the ringing of eardrums. 

 

The White Stripes’ performance was nothing short of impeccable. The 33-song cavalcade ceremoniously kicked off with Jack White literally waving a Detroit flag, knowingly singing “Little Room” in the biggest room it had ever been performed in. The incongruity was immediately pushed further with the trilling screech of “The Big Three Killed My Baby,” as intensely critical a song as has ever been written about the industry that built Detroit. All performed in a room that, save maybe the Rouge Plant’s blast furnaces, is as close as to a temple as exists for the automobile industry. No sacred cows here. Iconoclasm exemplified. 

 

Jack and Meg fully hit their stride and power through a medley fueled by another renowned Detroit commodity...rock and roll. Their assertive take on Iggy Pop’s stomping “I’m Bored” weaved seamlessly into the Gories’ hypnotic “Omologato” and by the time they were crushing on the MC5’s atomic anthem “Looking at You” the result was maddeningly perfect, a daft tribute to the oft-overlooked local cultural fuel that helped ignite and launch the White Stripes to the perch where they could ultimately propel themselves globally.

 

Jack urged attendees to go check out some beloved home-grown Gordon Newton art before the set break then he and Meg came back all taut and attitudinal with impassioned takes on gems like  “Let’s Shake Hands” and “Fell In Love With a Girl” sitting comfortably amongst covers of Robert Johnson (“Stop Breaking Down”), Loretta Lynn (“Rated X”) and Blind Willie McTell (“Your Southern Can Is Mine”) before tying it all together succinctly with the White Stripes blasting through their bona fide set closer “Screwdriver.”

 

Knowing full well the gravity and importance of the 50th installment of Third Man Records’ Vault subscription series, here in its entirety is the White Stripes legendary night at the Detroit Institute of Arts. With striking soundboard audio that wonderfully captures the energy radiating off the band that evening while subtly balancing the cavernous BOOM of tube amplifiers in a room with only bodies to deaden the sound, the two LPs here are lovingly pressed on red and white vinyl. All sounds were painstakingly mastered, cut, and pressed at the Third Man Cass Corridor premises, less than a mile down the road from the marble fortress of the DIA.

 

Utilizing said audio as its bedrock, the package also features a pro-shot DVD of the complete White Stripes performance, sourced directly from the previously untapped video archives of the Detroit Institute of Arts. Vibrant and captivating, the footage manages to bring the viewer into the room, transported to the time and place where such magnetism unfurled.

 

The artwork here utilizes a cache of previously unseen images shot that day by noted Detroit photographer Steve Shaw. Capturing the band at delightfully opposing tableaus...the strikingly empty soundcheck where skylights find the sun dappled mise en scene of Rivera’s murals as a humbling backdrop to the hauntingly dark and imposing mid-set overhead spotlit vignette of Jack and Meg....the imagery here is among the best we have ever had the luxury of using for such an important moment in the White Stripes’ history. Gracing both the LP and DVD covers, the choicest Shaw images are reproduced here in a collection of four stunning photographic prints.

 

The White Stripes' at the Detroit Institute of Arts was an exercise in inherent juxtapositions. The best and the worst. High art and low art. Big rooms and little rooms. Past and present. Respect and irreverence. Hyper-local and widely global. Emptiness and overcrowding. Darkness and light. The White Stripes embody and attack all of these. A mess of contradictions laid bare for all to see and listen and love.

Jack White Live at the Garden Bowl Lounge June 3rd, 2001

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The weekend had been a whirlwind...the slightly odd outdoor college gig on the Columbus campus of Ohio State at dusk on Friday night followed by the third time in nine months that the Stripes were onstage at the Southgate House in Newport, Kentucky on Saturday evening...pretty sure it was the first run of gigs in the brand new 2001 model Dodge van that Jack and Meg had bought from the dealership for straight cash. I sold merch out the back of the van in Columbus, Weezer's "Green Album" was listened to on the drive, the band goofed on the Gories' "Rat's Nest" on Friday night...these are the few memories that are still retrievable two decades on.

We made our way back to Detroit with a tad bit of urgency, as there was an interview with Ralph Valdez on WDET radio on Sunday night followed by this performance at the Garden Bowl Lounge, booked under the name “John Gillis” with hopes of notifying some people while not tipping off ALL people.

In my memory Brendan Benson was doing sound or at least some approximation of it. There may have even been a newly purchased PA for the occasion, but still, that room is a hard one to get the sound just right. Compared to previous Jack White performances in this spot, it felt a hair more subdued...no other musicians, no feral screaming, still that same electric hum, but more a calming exercise than some attempt to prove something or win folks over.

Jack first played the Garden Bowl Lounge, solo, in November 1998 and in the intervening three years he would play there no less than five additional times in various configurations. The June 3rd, 2001 show is, seemingly, the last time he’d play this intimate setting where he’d spent so much time, both socially and on stage, that time and the experience gained used to propel himself from local up-and-coming musician to internationally renowned ROCK STAR.

That being said, I am hard-pressed to find or recall ANY set by Jack White, in any incarnation or band, that is as varied and unique as this Garden Bowl gem. A layover, stopoff, way station...in my eyes, something that just had to be done as a means to get to the better things in the not-so-distant future. The metaphorical closing of one door so that fifty more could open.

All these years later, I’m legitimately surprised to find out that this evening is likely the first-ever live performance of “I’m Finding It Harder To Be A Gentleman.” The take here is charmed...almost as if Jack had never even tried to tackle it without the beating heart electric piano that pumps throughout the recorded version...having to find his footing on the fly but never tipping his hand to the struggle. 

Coupled with an early live outing of “We’re Going To Be Friends” and solid runs through tried-and-true (at least in Detroit) songs “Hotel Yorba” and “The Same Boy You’ve Always Known” along with “You’ve Got Her In Your Pocket” a good two years before the band would record it and those are the only de facto White Stripes songs shared this evening. The majority of the set is a phalanx of covers which almost reads as a road map as to where the future would lead.

Like “Rated X”...the Loretta Lynn-penned polemic here is plain but pointed, the live from the Hotel Yorba version would be recorded within a week and end up as a b-side from the Stripes come November. 

Or “Cold Brains”...on this evening all contemplative and compelling, while just over a year later and an hour up the road Jack would perform it live with its writer Beck at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor. 

Or “Baby Blue”...the 1958 Gene Vincent rockabilly gem, which soon after this performance found its way into Stripes sets and in seven weeks time would wrap up, on a lark, their first ever session for John Peel, as earlier that evening Peel had mentioned his appreciation for Vincent in passing.

“Who’s To Say…”  had been a staple of Two Star Tabernacle’s sets during their brief 1997-1999 existence. The song was written by White’s Two Star band mate Dan Miller and would see its debut release via Miller’s group Blanche on a 7-inch on my imprint Cass Records. Released “summer 2003” (I’m terrible with non-Stripes timelines) and complete with a stellar guest guitar solo from White, the Stripes’ version would follow close behind as the flipside to their “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself” single in September 2003. 

“Fragile Girl” was originally written by Dean Fertita and performed in his group the Waxwings, who joined the White Stripes on their West Coast tour in July 2001. Fertita would later perform with White in the Raconteurs and then as bandmates in the Dead Weather. White’s pre-song anecdote speaks to his endearing mishearing of the lyric “to unveil a vision” as “television” and its ability to break up a couple or bring them closer together.

The middle of the set is thick with blues and folk covers. White’s tackling of “Dying Crapshooter’s Blues” is arguably the highlight of the entire performance. The daft deathbed storytelling is accompanied by insistently accelerating guitar...from slow, to trot, to rollicking...as the listed litany of last requests piles up, the specter of impending death is palpable, as if there’s a rush to get all these thoughts out before Death wields its mighty scythe. 

The folk standard “Black Jack Davey” tells its tale with an austerity of words, which would later make an appearance as the b-side to “Seven Nation Army” in roughly two years time.

“In My Time Of Dying” likely shows up on White’s radar via Zeppelin’s 1975 version. In the context of his performance here, both Blind Willie Johnson’s 1927 original (titled “Jesus Make Up My Dying Bed) and Dylan’s well-known take from 1962 seem to figure prominently.

White’s version barely hits the ninety second mark when, right before the start of the third verse, he pivots into Blind Willie McTell’s “Lord, Send Me An Angel.” Curiously, the first word of that third verse is “Lord” and I can’t help but think this was a purposeful connection between the two done on Jack’s part.

For me, being in the crowd for this performance was a treat...these were all songs that kinda felt like they’d just been floating in the ether for the past couple years. Things that’d be goofed on, messed with, maybe never fully explored yet. In the spirit of that, at approximately 3:14 mark of “The Same Boy You’ve Always Known” you can hear my distant voice yell “Hypnotize!” from the bar.

Jack had written the song roughly three years earlier as a “gift” to local band the Hentchmen. He’d come up with the idea that was vaguely in their musical wheelhouse, recorded a demo where he played all the instruments, and then shared it with them to ultimately...end up having the White Stripes do a version for “Elephant.”

Having heard that demo at the time and likely nothing of itin the intervening three years...I was just hoping to hear it again. My request went unanswered and I’d end up waiting another eight months or so before the Stripes started playing it live. 

A recording of this show made by taper Brian Rozman seemed to be available in trading circles pretty quickly after the performance. The quality is solid. A few years back when gathering disparate master tapes for our vault, a DAT of this show recorded by Brendan Benson landed on my lap. Having been previously in the dark about its existence, I was happy to hear it was even better quality than the respectable audience tape...yet failed to capture the entirety of the performance.

So with the help of our crack mastering engineer Bill Skibbe, we stitched those two recordings together and gave the whole thing a proper mastering clean up for the audio you listen to today. 

The Garden Bowl Lounge looks largely unchanged now from how it was back in 2001. There’s a new coat of paint on the walls, the random black and blue linoleum flooring has been replaced. But if you get in the cozy little nook where Jack was set-up on that calm Sunday night in 2001 and look up, you’ll see the same checker pattern black and white ceiling tiles, having held that spot for Lord knows how long.

The Gories “Gimme Some Money”

"Gimme Some Money" b/w "You Don't Love Me (You Don't Care)"

scum stats: most copies on red vinyl, fewer on blue and even fewer on pink. Sub Pop used to have quantities listed on their website that are long gone now, but if gun is pointed to my head, I'd say 2900 on red, 1500 on blue and 100 on pink. I have copies of all three. And a test pressing.

Quite possibly the first single I truly ever fell in love with. I bought this for $15 at Neptune Records in Royal Oak, either 1997 or 1998 and didn't even think to bat an eyelash. I'm pretty sure this is the first Gories record I ever bought and one of the first Sub Pop singles I ever grabbed. So...a big deal all around.

I feel in the depths of my marrow that this is as perfect a 7" that could ever exist. The false starts at the beginning of "Money" (especially the great aside "She was taking a swig of beer") to the blown out harmonic intensity of "You Don't Love Me" (almost certainly inspired by the Birds arrangement of the Diddley-penned classic) from the iconic cover photo (taken in the building where Harry Houdini's body was embalmed! Danny's wearing a wig! Mick's guitar has a fake MIDI read out!) to covering a song that was written as a total joke for "This Is...Spinal Tap" (credited to the faux pre-Tap band the Thamesmen) to the insane "Metal Machine Music" adjacent feedback that erupts on "You Don't Love Me" to the rumor Mick once told me that this single was actually intended to be the band's release on Estrus (the "garage" label) because it was pretty "garage-y" and that "Baby Says Unh" (which ended up on Estrus) was supposed to come out on Sub Pop, because that song was more "grunge-y" which Dan later told me was bullshit but then I was listening to the live recording of the Gories at the Old Miami and Mick introduces "Baby Says Unh" as "our upcoming single on Sub Pop" and who knows what to believe at this point all I can say is that spending time in Detroit lately, in the neighborhood the band played and recorded and spanned most of their time that I am 100% FEELING this moment. In the depths of my marrow that this is as perfect a 7" that could ever exist. The false starts at the beginning of "Money" (especially the great aside "She was taking a swig of beer") to the blown out harmonic intensity of "You Don't Love Me" (almost certainly inspired by the Birds arrangement of the Diddley-penned classic) from the iconic cover photo (taken in the building where Harry Houdini's body was embalmed! Danny's wearing a wig! Mick's guitar has a fake MIDI read out!) to covering a song that was written as a total joke for "This Is...Spinal Tap" (credited to the faux pre-Tap band the Thamesmen) to the insane "Metal Machine Music" adjacent feedback that erupts on "You Don't Love Me" to the rumor Mick once told me that this single was actually intended to be the band's release on Estrus (the "garage" label) because it was pretty "garage-y" and that "Baby Says Unh" (which ended up on Estrus) was supposed to come out on Sub Pop, because that song was more "grunge-y" which Dan later told me was bullshit but then I was listening to the live recording of the Gories at the Old Miami and Mick introduces "Baby Says Unh" as "our upcoming single on Sub Pop" and who knows what to believe at this point all I can say is that spending time in Detroit lately, in the neighborhood the band played and recorded and spanned most of their time that I am 100% FEELING this moment.

My Recommendations from 20 Years Ago Are Still Rock Solid...

Junior year of high school, Spring of 1998, a classmate named Al told me that he'd found a record store that sold local music. In one of the coolest questions ever asked of me, he said "What should I buy?"

Good thing the store was Car City Records, which basically served as my reason for being back then.

The scan above is the hand-written notes and recommendations I gave him back when I was still sixteen years old.

(Pay no attention to Ass Ponys, Mud Hunnie, Pestiside, Blood Rust, The Reble Rousers, Punk U, My Ass the Vampire, NoFX, KRS-One or Suicide Machines...he must've been getting info from some other punks who's tastes seem to not have aged as well.)

Al posted this on Instagram recently and I was shocked at how much I STILL stand by all of these claims and suggestions twenty years later. Either I'm extremely stunted, incredibly reliable, or a combination of the two.