Rambling Introduction

We all remember music in late 2001/2002 - nu-metal was still being treated with inexplicable respect, Weezer had publicly announced that they would henceforth suck, Avril Lavigne had burst onto the scene with all her antiestablishmentarian Candian punk rawk girl charm. Yes, they were dark times - but then we saw that video with the Legos, and suddenly we knew everything was going to be ok.

You see, Jack White had fallen in love with a girl - and he did it in such an unpretentious low-key toned-down-yet-roaring garage-blues-rock style that we fell in love with him as he did it. The rest, as they say, is history - White Blood Cells became a huge hit, and subsequent releases Elephant, Get Behind Me Satan, and Icky Thump commanded immediate attention. They’re all pretty solid records - but not my favorite Stripes discs.

My favorite is the White Stripes‘ second full record, 2000’s De Stijl. Here’s the thing: since White Blood Cells, the Stripes have been sort of intentionally creating their own brand of increasingly produced blues rock. Every album gets a little bit more Jack Whitey, until by the time you get to Icky Thump you can’t shake the notion that he’s not making music about life anymore - he’s making music about the White Stripes. Self-referential, idiosyncratic and increasingly inaccessible, the White Stripes are still making really good tunes in my opinion - but if you’re a fan and you’ve never given De Stijl a spin then you really owe it to yourself to find a copy right now.

If Icky Thump is Jack White’s tribute to himself, De Stijl is Jack White’s tribute to American music itself. From the short but endearing “You’re Pretty Good Looking (For a Girl)” to the Spanish guitar-infused melody of “Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise” through to the odd, twangy “Your Southern Can is Mine,” De Stijl is a tour de force through Jack White’s musical influences.

De Stijl really makes you appreciate the fact that it’s just a stripped down but expertly handled guitar with some simplistic drumming in the background - it’s the sound that built the Stripes, and spinning this disc after Icky Thump is like jumping into cool water on a hot day. It’s not that you don’t like the sunny weather, it’s just that sometimes it makes you work too hard.

The Breakdown

I’m providing YouTube links where I can, but this record was before they made it big so all I have to work with are live recordings and home videos. I’ll try to avoid anime music videos.

1. The disc opens with “You’re Pretty Good Lookin’ (For a Girl)” - musically it’s upbeat and straightforward. Lyrically it’s about falling for a girl because she’s pretty, but sort of taking it in stride that dating a pretty girl has its own rather distinct set of problems. Guys are buying her stuff, lots of rivals, and he doesn’t want to be her toy - it’s like an interesting, surprisingly insightful pickup line put to music. The “(For a Girl)” bit, too, is amusing - either there’s a queer reading of this track I haven’t taken the time to understand or it’s got this sort of really casual but fantastically proportioned narcissism driving it. Either way it fits the song pretty well.
2. Next we get “Hello Operator,” which features a strong, driving guitar backing up lyrics which - unless I’m mistaken - seem to be about trying to get a date with the telephone operator. Don’t miss the great Meg White drum solo where she beats a simple rhythm with a single drumstick for a few measures. It’s surprisingly effective. (for a really impressive, really old live version, see this video 1999 and it looks like someone’s garage, ha.)
3. A track like “Little Bird” still gives you that sort of driving, aggressive beat that the White Stripes would later distill into Seven Nation Army - but they don’t hit you over the head with it. Rather than using the pacing of the track as a bludgeon, it becomes its own instrument; at the end of the track, the guitar and drums work together to accelerate into an increasingly frenetic sprint before coalescing majestically into the concluding riffs. (Alternate Take: here’s a more recent live performance of this song together with an unlikely cover)
4. “Apple Blossom” is a sort of upbeat friendly track - “Hey little apple blossom, what seems to be the problem?” It’s about making a connection, though I don’t entirely trust the speaker - he’s going to help this girl because he thinks she’s cute, he wants to solve her problems - then, as an afterthought, fall in love with and marry her.
5. “I’m Bound to Pack it Up” is a lovelorn breakup song - lyrically, it’s about the end of a relationship and about how the singer’s departure is inevitable. It’s depressing - and yet the music in the background is carefree, wandering. The song sounds disappointed but hopeful, as though the inevitability of loss is just one of those things you have to deal with. How to put it? The guitar in the background makes me feel like life is one big adventurous journey, and that the sad elements being described lyrically are just a small part of that. Small consolation if you’re actually in a bad breakup, perhaps, but I kinda like it. (Alternate Take: here’s a video with a muzak-y version of this song. I wouldn’t link it except that the video reinforces my take on the music as distinct from the lyrics. Also, sadly, this was the best YouTube could do for me for this song. If you think this is bad you should see the other two.)
6. This departure segues into a cover of Son House’s “Death Letter” - we get some pretty heavy, pretty bluesy guitar work howling around a loosely constructed narrative. “I got a letter this morning, what do you reckon it read? It said ‘The gal you love is dead.’” … “Looked like ten thousand people standing in the burial ground - I didn’t know that I loved until they began to let her down.” It’s heavy and once more sort of surprisingly insightful for something so lyrically sparse. If you really liked the guitar in, say, “Hardest Button to Button” then give this one a listen. If the last track is about how life is an adventure and even loss is just a temporary thing you deal with, this one presents the equally compelling case that shit’ll never be the same again.
7. Next we get the slow, sad-sounding “Sister Do You Know My Name?” It’s a back-to-school track, lyrically reminiscent of an insecure kid’s version of “We’re Going to be Friends” from White Blood Cells - but musically it couldn’t be farther removed. It’s dark, brooding, lonely music - it’s got all of the oppressive drive of an early Nick Cave track before resolving into a slightly optimistic ending.
8. Maybe my favorite track on the disc is the next one, “Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise.” We’ve got flowing, heavy Spanish-sounding guitar, we’ve got really interesting lyrics, we’ve even got some keys coming in to flesh out the musical interludes. If I had to describe this I’d call it an angry - no, furious - love song. Maybe not even love. It’s about standing up for someone who won’t defend herself, because she’s too proud or too scared or too strong or too weak or something. The lyrics make me think, and the music really communicates the underlying rage of the track. Definitely not a song to miss.
9. The following track, “A Boy’s Best Friend,” is another oppressive, lonely slow song. It’s maybe my least favorite track on the disc - both musically and lyrically. It’s slow, ponderous almost, until expanding predictably into a stubborn bluesy breakdown that threatens to become interesting before subsiding back into plodding. I’m all like, we get it, you’re lonely. But they can’t all be zingers, right? “A boy’s best friend is his mother or whatever has become his pet.”
10. “Let’s Build a Home” opens with a little kid (young Jack White, according to Wikipedia) reciting a poem to his brother and mother; it’s a nice family scene which explodes into a pretty excited, exciting rock song. Musically I wanna say it reminds me a bit of “Little Acorns” from Elephant. It’s not much for profound lyrics - it’s a guy celebrating the fact that his life is falling into place for once instead of falling apart.
11. This flows neatly into “Jumble Jumble,” characterized by hazy powerful chords driving into some sort of oblivion. I can’t tell if it’s a song about drugs or about getting into a fight or merely about everything in the previous track falling apart. It’s chaotic, excited and doesn’t seem entirely wholesome.
12. Next we get “Why Can’t You Be Nicer To Me“, which musically seems to pick up where “Jumble Jumble” left off. This gets perhaps most into the blues, but with some interesting jazzy string samples dropped in. It has a sort of chaotic sound that changes up here and then but honestly it’s not really doing anything for me.
13. Rounding out the album we get a cover of Blinde Willie McTell’s “Your Southern Can is Mine.” Musically it’s light-hearted with an easy beat and a fairly straightforward chord structure. He’s just strumming along with Meg backing him up on vocals while keeping a steady rhythm going on. It’s lighthearted and catchy - and lyrically it’s about a man making sure his wife knows he owns her and will beat her with a brick, to death if necessary, if she crosses him or tries to leave him. It’s interesting to me that an album which is almost a celebration of essentially southern American music ends on such a note, but maybe it’s necessary - Perhaps Jack is here coming to terms with the violence and misogyny of his heroes while still embracing the beauty they were able to create. In any case, it’s a fitting end to this disc and it really is fun to listen to.

Platitude-Plagued Conclusion

On White Blood Cells, there’s a little ditty called “Little Room,” which consists of the following lyrics:

Well you’re in your little room
And you’re working on something good,
But if it’s really good,
You’re gonna need a bigger room.

And when you’re in your bigger room,
You might not know what to do.
You might have to think of
How you got started
Sitting in your little room.

I don’t wanna say I don’t like the things Jack White has been exploring lately, but he’s definitely in the big room. For a glance into his early little room, do yourself a favor and check out this CD. I promise it’ll be worth your while.

© 2007 Mykola Bilokonsky for Listen In. Some rights reserved. Cross-posted here on Newsvine.

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