Birmingham, Blunderbuss and Bombing Out

Mr White will see you now

For the latest instalment of this gig review series, I found myself in England’s second city, Birmingham. The ticket resale market is a cruel and unforgiving place, and after weeks of desperate attempts to secure Jack White tickets in London, the only option that fell into my lap was a Sunday night show at Birmingham’s O2 Academy. With this country’s unreliable rail networks, a train journey was simply too risky. Thus, my Sunday afternoon was taken by a voyage to Birmingham by car. A smooth, bombing journey up the M1 and M6 saw us land in Birmingham far too early, leaving one option - mooch.

Birmingham

This is a city I have not frequented often but one I have also not heard much about. I’m sure it has more interesting areas, but the city centre is a largely unremarkable thing. The Bullring is impressive, but on a late Sunday afternoon there is only so much to do or say for it. A customary Nandos followed by trips to the Bullring Tavern (don’t) and the Wetherspoons (do) killed enough time to see us into the venue. Unfortunately, I did not see a huge amount of the Venice of the North as it is known (I also did not see a single canal) but it welcomed me with open arms and warm spirit.

The crowd

I’m switching up the order this time between crowd and venue as I cannot really review the venue without acknowledging the crowd situation, or rather a mistake from myself. We entered the Academy just before the support act started, which was 8pm. At this point, we realised an error had been made. Jack White does not come to this country very often on tours, so the people of the UK are fairly starved of his gigs. This was evident in the crowd which had formed inside the venue. It was rammed with over an hour to go until Jack White took to the stage. And as I will explain further down, it’s not like there was a mega support act drawing the people in too. These people were here, early, for Mr White.

When you’re at your thirstiest, you drink the most water. For these Jack White fans, they were parched of White exposure and so had entered the venue so early to drink in as much as they could, despite him not taking to the stage for another hour or so. We had underestimated their fervour - and suffered with a fairly poor position stage left. This did not kill our excitement, as Detroit’s very own guitar god was a mere hour away.

The venue

I cannot say too much about Birmingham’s O2 Academy, in that it is a fairly generic place. The gents’ toilets are massive which is always a plus. However, the bars and merchandise stall downstairs are very close in proximity to the standing area, causing havoc with queuing and the actual crowd. Otherwise, it was a perfectly passable place to take in your favourite live acts when they visit this the City of a Thousand Trades.

The support

A strange one this time. Black Mekon was the support act chosen by Mr White. A Birmingham two piece with a mere 500 monthly listeners on Spotify, this Brummie duo were a guitarist who also sang and played harmonica, and a drummer. Remind you of anyone?

Black Mekon

Unfortunately, the comparisons to Jack White’s original band, the White Stripes, do not stop there. I would describe Black Mekon as White Stripes Lite; a lot of huffing and puffing but not a huge amount more. Their stage presence was compelling though, with them both wearing strange masks with light up eyes, much like an old Batman comic. Their short set left a little to be desired and this show could have possibly benefitted from another support act, or a longer set from Black Mekon. However, kudos must go to Jack White and his team for selecting such a small, local act to open his show.

Jack White

Where to begin with Mr White? White’s career has taken many twists and turns, most notably beginning in the band The White Stripes, with his then-wife and band mate Meg White. The White Stripes were a force of nature despite merely being a two piece, with crunching riffs and powerful beats to blow you out of your seat. They created some of modern rocks most iconic songs, not least Seven Nation Amy, which has been utilised by virtually every sporting event/team. They influenced so many bands, not least Royal Blood, Arctic Monkeys and alleged copycats The Black Keys.

During his time in The White Stripes, Jack White embarked on several different projects, including The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather. However, after The White Stripes’ eventual demise in 2011, Jack himself embarked on a solo career. And that solo career is what this tour is in support of; namely, White’s latest solo effort, No Name. I am a big fan of White’s solo career in general, particularly his debut, Blunderbuss. No Name is him returning to those dizzying heights. This is old school rock n’ roll, with no frills, witty lyrics and catchy hooks that stay burrowed in your ears for days. Its poor commercial performance is a scandal, and I feel for White that it did not climb the charts or the court of public opinion better.

In light of how good No Name is, you would expect this show to be brilliant in turn. And that it is.

As soon as the main man burst onto the stage to join his band in an introductory jam, you knew you were in for a night of fun. There was so much power from these four musicians and they did it with a smile on their faces.

Jack White is a funny thing in this day and age. A solo artist who lives and breathes rock in its purest form and is unashamedly himself. This show is all headbanging riffs, wailing solos and hooks that worm their way into your ear. His voice is also incredible live and he’s a real showman. I loved every second of this, even the songs I did not know. The setlist spanned large portions of The White Stripes’ career, White’s solo offering and Steady As She Goes as the lone Raconteur representative.

The highlights were the No Name tracks, which translate so well live. White has a real energy to him live which you would not expect from his interviews. He is clearly a huge Led Zeppelin fan, with these songs taking on even more Page-like qualities live than they do in the album. It’s Rough on Rats (If You’re Asking) already has such a Zeppelin vibe on the record, but on stage it seems to morph into a pseudo-Zeppelin treat. I for one am not complaining. Archbishop Harold Holmes is the most irreverent track from the record and it just works so well live. White assumes the personality of a dodgy cult leader with real humour and the refrain ‘you need to see me right now so I can fix this-a’ is a joy to shout back to him.

I have a couple of criticisms of this performance. The set was between 1 hour 30 and 1 hour 40 which felt a touch short (I suppose you can have too much of a good thing). Further, there were some big omissions. Ball and Biscuit, Blue Orchid, Freedom at 21, Black Math, It’s Hardest Button to Button and Hotel Yorba were all absent. Bless Yourself, mine and many other fans’ favourite from No Name, has not been performed live once on this tour which is a real shame.

Despite these minor critiques, this show was truly wonderful. The closer, Seven Nation Army is a true force of nature. For a songwriter, having your lyrics sung back to you must feel amazing. But to have a riff sung back to you so you don’t even need to play it during a verse and you can effectively go a Capella, must be a whole other beast in itself. We pondered in the car on the way home whether Jack White is sick of doing this anthem live. After all, it is performed at every single show he does. But not only can he credit it to large portions of his success (despite also having an amazing arsenal of music) it must be a great feeling to have it in your locker during any live show. It is truly one of the 21st century’s great anthems and in Birmingham it did not disappoint.

With that, via a trip to Glasgow’s Barrowlands, Jack White’s European tour has come to an end. I will be desperate to catch him when he returns to our shores in the future. His energy is infectious, the music impossible not to bop to and the virtuosity of his guitar work sometimes mind boggling. He is a modern-day guitar hero whose work should be celebrated as much and as loudly as humanly possible.

I wearily arrived back home at around 1am. Once I climbed into bed after a rushed ritual of teeth brushing and clothing removal, I let the previous hours sink in. I had raced up the country to watch a living rock legend in another city, before bombing home to the sanctuary of my own bed back in London. Despite my ears ringing (I had forgotten my loops) and my zombified state the following day as I hauled myself into the office, I could never suggest for a minute that this trip was not worth it. Some had scoffed at the notion of a flying visit to Brum, citing the day of the week, journey time and the fact I would have to drive as reasons not to bother. But life is about experiences and stories. Would I look back in five years having not seen White at all on this European run and be happy with myself? Or will I be able to look back and smile at a stolen afternoon in Birmingham, followed by a night of fantastic showmanship and then a laugh-fuelled drive home? I’m confident I made the right call.