Interview: The White Stripesby Barry Divola
Before you get to talk to Jack White, you're sent a list of "guidelines." There are to be no questions where he has to list favorite records, guitarists, colors, or anything else. No problem. I'm color blind anyway.
There are to be no "silly" questions. The band has preferred photographers. And there are to be no inquiries into his personal life-- "this includes brother/sister, husband/wife questions." This was a bit rich coming from a duo who insisted they were brother and sister to everyone's faces (including mine) back in their early days, only for it to emerge that they used to be married. Jack also famously dated Cold Mountain co-star Renee Zellweger, and two years ago he married English model Karen Elson, reportedly in a canoe on the Amazon (they have a one-year-old daughter Scarlett and are expecting another child this year). All of this was off-limits. "Let's keep it about the music," ordered the management's missive.
Jack now lives in Nashville, where he moved 18 months ago from his hometown of Detroit. Sometimes you can play by the rules but still get what you want-- Jack proved less intimidating than his management, and spoke about smoking, "The Simpsons", haggis, red-headed women, upholstery, and how hard it is to find a guy who plays bagpipes in the key of D. All this came in relation to the new White Stripes album, which has the quite silly title Icky Thump.
Pitchfork: How's the Nashville skyline tonight?
Jack White: Looking real good.
Pitchfork: Enjoying living there?
White: Very much. The best thing I ever did.
Pitchfork: You don't miss Detroit?
White: Not really. There's some really nice buildings in Detroit, and I miss some of those.
Pitchfork: Was it always going to be Nashville?
White: I wanted to be somewhere down in the south. I looked around Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and it just felt right in Nashville. It kept calling out to me for some reason, so I didn't fight it.
Pitchfork: You played the Cannery Ballroom in Nashville recently, and it was the first White Stripes show since December 2005. Was it like getting back on a horse or were you a bit rusty?
White: It was a little of everything. Some things came completely natural and some things I had to think, "How did we do this again?" We just needed to get out there and do one. We'd been rehearsing with a new crew and new gear and all these new songs, of course. So we said, "Let's just play a show and get this out of our system." It's a lot different to rehearsing where you stop to get a drink of water or go to the bathroom. We needed an actual show to jolt us into being where we're used to being.
Pitchfork: Was the reason for the 18-month gap because of personal stuff and working with the Raconteurs?
White: It's pretty tough to tour with both of the bands at the same time. It's not tough to walk on stage with Meg, and walk on stage with the Raconteurs. It's more the crew and the equipment and all that jazz. That's what keeps it from happening. We're trying out new ways to get around that and we're going to get better at it. This is not something everyone does, being in two fully functioning bands at the same time. It's a new thing and we're seeing how it pans out.
We finished the White Stripes album and I just took three weeks off to start work on the new Raconteurs album. We've recorded half the album now. I'm not supposed to be doing that. I'm supposed to be doing press for this new White Stripes record and making videos. But when the songs are coming out you've got to get 'em down, you know? We're going to come back later in the year and get back to work again on the new Raconteurs record, but it's coming out strong.
Pitchfork: Does the fact that you and Meg no longer live in the same city change the dynamic of the White Stripes?
White: Not really. We haven't really lived in the same town for the last couple of albums anyway. Once you start going out on the road for a while and most of your time is spent out there, you come home and it doesn't really feel like home anyway. It's a strange environment.
Pitchfork: Your vocal range seems to be stronger on Icky Thump. Is it true you gave up smoking?
White: Yeah, I gave it up because of my voice. That was almost two years ago now.
Pitchfork: I remember when I last interviewed you when you were touring Australia in 2003, you were basically chain-smoking American Spirits the whole time we talked. So giving up couldn't have been easy, I imagine.
White: Actually, I quit in one day. I've got a pretty strong will. I quit cold turkey and never looked back. Sometimes that's the best thing to do.
Pitchfork: Did you notice your voice improve overnight?
White: No, it took a while actually. Within four or five months it started to come back. But it really took up until now for it to come back to really where it was years ago. I first noticed I was losing my high end when I was working with Loretta Lynn (on 2004's Van Lear Rose). I was trying to demo these songs in front of her and I felt embarrassed that I wasn't hitting these notes. So I stopped lying to myself that the smoking wasn't doing it.
Pitchfork: Let's talk about the title of the new album, Icky Thump. I know that the phrase "ecky thump" is northern English slang, and I'm guessing you got that from your wife.
White: That's true. I did get it from her. It's something she said that was funny. It's basically an exclamation of surprise. So I started yelling it out to kick off every verse in that song. Then I started to get some great metaphors out of it, and I changed it to icky.
Pitchfork: Are you picking up any other English-isms from her?
White: All the time. Instead of the word "that" my wife says "which." You know, if you say, "That garbage can that's over there," she'll say, "That garbage can which is over there." So I like that.
Pitchfork: I noticed there's a red-headed senorita in the lyrics of "Icky Thump" and red-headed women you shouldn't be kissing in "300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues". As your wife's a redhead, can we read anything into this?
White: Well, there's always been a few red-headed women throughout my records. It's just something that pops into my head, I guess.
Pitchfork: With the song "Icky Thump" there's a political angle too, as it touches on the immigration debate.
White: It seems like a timeless sort of thing to me. It's something that's been happening in America for a long time. There's this timeless ridiculousness about one group of people excluding another group of people. It's almost like a children's playground feeling, this "you can't play with us"/"you can't go on that swing set" kind of thing. That kind of notion is just ridiculous for adults to still be thinking like that, trying to find a way to justify those exact same notions.
Pitchfork: Is this as close as you've come to writing a protest song?
White: Well, I don't know about that. It's just one line in the song, man. There's a lot going on in there. The theme of that song is more about who's using who, so I think it related well to what I was saying before. I try to stay away from that stuff because I think it's best left to people who know more about politics to talk about it. It's not my speciality. I don't read the newspaper every day. I don't watch CNN all day long, so there are a lot more people who do their research and can back up what they have to say.
Pitchfork: Plus when people mix pop and politics it can so easily fall flat on its face, can't it?
White: Yeah, that or it can start a riot. One or the other.
Pitchfork: Michel Gondry came to you with the idea for a video and you wrote "I'm Slowly Turning Into You" from that idea, right?
White: That's right. The song came from his idea for a video. From memory, we had dinner with him after he'd already done "The Hardest Button to Button" video for us. I went home and a few days later I started writing that song. I began writing that song before Get Behind Me Satan, but we never got a chance to work on it because there were so many other songs. He hasn't heard the song yet, so I hope he likes it. I think he will, because he likes keyboards, and there's a lot of big Hammond organ in that at one. I hope we get to do the video for the song now. It would be a shame if we didn't.
Pitchfork: Of course, "The Hardest Button to Button" video got the ultimate accolade-- it was parodied when you appeared in "The Simpsons".
White: Sure did. Good for Michel. We were very fortunate they picked us. It was cool of them. It was plain old fun doing the voices on that after watching the show for many years. It was completely bizarre. Those episodes take nine months to make and we recorded a lot of different dialogue, and they pick the best of it. They start of with a lot of ideas and then whittle it down to fit into half an hour. There were a lot of out-takes.
Pitchfork: Can you fill me in on the history of "Conquest", the old Patti Page song you cover on the new album?
White: It was one of her singles that came out in 1952. It was actually a top 20 hit in America, I found out later. I've been wanting to cover it for over a decade now. It was good to do it now because it's the 10-year anniversary of the White Stripes and also it seemed to go along with some of the themes of the songwriting on this album, about who's using who, and role reversal, so that song exemplified those themes. I always root for the underdog in movies and books, but it seldom happens in real life where people that are being manipulated turn the tables, and you really want them to, especially if it's people you know.
Pitchfork: Is the trumpeter on that song really a guy you found playing in a restaurant?
White: Yeah. The funny thing...well, not the funny thing...the tragic thing was that the restaurant where his band played burned down a couple of weeks ago. We were recording the song and I said, "Does anyone know any mariachi trumpeters we can use on this?" And everyone was suggesting these white session guys in Nashville who play trumpet. I grew up in a Mexican neighbourhood in Detroit and I thought it'd be sacrilege if I didn't use a guy from a real mariachi band. [We] started calling around Mexican restaurants to see if any of them had bands, and found this one. They had to bring an interpreter into the studio because he didn't speak English. He was great. He just nailed it.
Pitchfork: There are bagpipes in "Prickly Thorn But Sweetly Worn". What brought this on?
White: Well, that song is about the thistle, which is the national flower of Scotland, and that lent itself to a lot of Scottish themes in the song. I was playing pump organ on the demo of the songs and I thought, "This sounds like bagpipes to me now." So one thing led to another.
Pitchfork: Bagpipes are a tricky proposition in rock music, aren't they? It worked for AC/DC on "It's A Long Way To The Top", but not so well for Wings on "Mull Of Kintyre".
White: It is tricky. Whenever you do odd instrumentation on a song, it becomes a battle. You have to do it in a certain way so it doesn't become pretentious.
Pitchfork: How did yo go about finding a bagpipe player? I presume there are not many Scottish restaurants in Nashville.
White: [Laughs] No. Not much haggis in Nashville. We found him through a musician's union in town. He played in a highland pipe and marching band. He was the only one we found who had bagpipes in the key of D, which is what the song is in. Highland pipes are usually in B flat. So that was very fortunate for us.
Pitchfork: More fortunate for him I would imagine, if he's sitting around waiting for session work in Nashville.
White: [Laughs] I guess so. Not much call for bagpipes in the key of D.
Pitchfork: Or bagpipes in any key, really. It's amazing to think that this was the longest you've ever spent recording an album and it was only three weeks.
White: I guess it's not very long these days.
Pitchfork: Do you think that bands who take months and months-- or years and years in the case of Axl Rose-- have just lost the plot?
White: I think there's too much opportunity. In general, opportunity tends to kill creativity. I think people don't realize that. A painter goes into an art supplies store and sees all these different colours and supplies and thinks, "Oh, goody! This is going to make me a better painter." Of course it's not. It's just going to make it harder to decide what not to use and what not to do. That's what happens with a group of 20-year-old kids who walk into a studio with ProTools and a computer and they can record 400 tracks if they want to. Maybe now with the state of the music industry they'll start spending less on albums and people will go back to reality. They should put up a plaque in every studio that says, "The Beatles recorded Revolver and Sgt. Pepper on four tracks." That'll clear everyone's head.
Pitchfork: Because of the way you work and think, do you think that you're a bit of a man out of time? Do you ever wish you could have been around in the 1950s or 60s?
White: I don't know about that. I do know that whenever a thing is made, like a guitar or an amplifier or a reel-to-reel tape machine, there comes a point where that's as good as it's going to get and they're not going to make it any better. And that's the case with the Fender twin reverb amplifier and the Fender Telecaster or the four-track tape recorder. They didn't become better when they became 24 tracks, you know? They just became easier to use. And ease of use doesn't necessarily mean better, you know? That's where the romance gets lost. But I don't want my records to sound like they were made in 1956. I think that's a misconception of our band. I despise the words "retro" and "reissue" and "replica." To try to imitate and replicate something is just a death.
Pitchfork: Do you think your past life as an upholsterer shaped your thinking this way? Do you see yourself as a craftsman who used to work with furniture, but now works with music?
White: Yeah, when it comes to appreciation for materials and things that are real that you can hold in your hands, definitely. Whenever you work with your hands you start thinking differently. It's like vinyl records compared with music on a computer that isn't visible and has no parts, so it's less appealing.
Pitchfork: Maybe more musicians need to get a trade these days. Get a hammer and some tacks into their hands.
White: [Laughs] Yeah. Of course, I kept the tacks in my mouth. That's what you do when you're an upholsterer. I always had to spit them out when the phone rang. Then you had to make the moral decision about whether to put hem back in your mouth again after they've been on the floor.
Pitchfork: If this rock'n'roll thing didn't pan out could you go back to it? Were you any good?
White: It's a difficult trade and I hate to toot my own horn, but I was okay, because the guy I apprenticed for was a perfectionist. He was very talented. If I could be a quarter as good as he was, I'd do all right I think.
Pitchfork: His kids have a band, right?
White: Yeah, the Muldoons. I record their stuff at my house. They're a great band.
Pitchfork: Finally, what's this about you playing Elvis in a film?
White: Well, John C. Reilly called me up and asked if I would do it. They were filming in a couple of days. I said, "Okay, but what year is it supposed to be?" He said 1957, so that was okay. I thought it was just going to be for cable or something, but he said, "Oh no, this is one of the biggest films this company is going to put out this year." He sent the script over and it was really funny. It was from the guys who did the The 40 Year Old Virgin and Anchorman. It's a parody of musical biopics and John C. Reilly plays this made-up character who goes through these different periods and at one point he plays on a bill with Elvis Presley. And that's me.