I have never been a music person. I own over 300 DVDs, I can quote British TV comedy off by heart, I’ve seen more stand up comedians than anyone I know, I have read hundreds of books but music… well it’s never been my thing.
I always wish it was, when friends of mine know of obscure tracks buried deep in the internet and beyond the pages of NME, I just sit in silence hoping I don’t get found out, that my musical naivety isn’t revealed to the world. I murmur along to lyrics, nod happily to tunes and grin faux enthusiastically when someone is describing a band I have vaguely heard of.
It’s not that I don’t listen to music or enjoy it, I have favourite bands, I love going to gigs and festivals; it’s just everything that goes with it. The knowledge of the next big thing, or accidently liking a song past its acceptable sell by date or more accurately sell out date.
I find it hard in company to admit I quite liked a song because of its catchy tune and I hadn’t really thought about the lyrics or the meaning behind them. It is perhaps why I will never be truly cool (though I’m sure there are many reasons for that).
So how you may ask does this fit in with the White Stripes? Well when I found out they were splitting up I felt a twinge, a deep feeling inside reminding me of my teenage years listening to their albums, and I realised that maybe I’m not as immune to music as I think.
The White Stripes have been part of most of my formative musical life, from watching the lego Jack White scream Fell in Love with a Girl on MTV2, hearing the unmistakable bass line of Seven Nation Army or jumping around drunk on £2 VKs in a dingy club at university to My Doorbell.
And now as I flick through their videos on youtube, I find myself singing along without realising I knew the words.
The White Stripes walked that perfect line between popularity and cool, even with bestselling albums and songs that were regularly played on commercial radio stations, no one could ever say they had sold out because they never did. The music was as raw and as beautiful as it had always been. Jack White was as crazy as ever and his relationship with his sister/ex wife Meg even more so (if you don’t understand the reference I’d look it up, there was no incest in the White Stripes).
As Jack moved onto other bands he dominated them. I once saw the Raconteurs play live and all you could focus on was an incredibly tall Jack White towering above the rest of the band both physically and musically.
It is perhaps what is written on their website as a final goodbye that describes it best; “The White Stripes do not belong to Meg and Jack anymore. The White Stripes belongs to you now and you can do with it whatever you want. The beauty of art and music is that it can last forever if people want it to.”
Even I, who will grumble when the topic of music comes up, stare blankly at new bands with no clue who they are and will sit slightly bored watching acts I’ve never heard of, can say that the White Stripes do belong to me and they have been with me for so much of my life, and like the best things I didn’t realise it until they were gone.
