For the past three decades now, a beloved 400-person capacity dive bar in Chicago by the name of The Empty Bottle has played host to countless up-and-coming bands, many of which went on to become the next big thing shortly after passing through the storied venue’s hallowed divey doors. Indeed, considering the likes of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Flaming Lips, and The Strokes (just to name a few) all graced the Empty Bottle’s infamously cramped stage before they hit the big time, it’s no wonder the bar has become the stuff of legends, effectively solidifying its status as the crowned jewel of the underground music scene in Chicago over the years. It’s all part of the allure, of course, the idea that on any given night, you might stumble upon an epic set from a relatively unknown band playing to maybe 20 people that goes on to become that aforementioned “next big thing”.
Such was the case way back in the year 2000 when a little two-piece band by the name of The White Stripes first graced The Empty Bottle’s stage, no doubt performing for modest size crowds initially, at least compared to what Jack White is used to these days. Suffice to say more than a few patrons over the years have wondered what it must have been like to witness history in the making at those early White Stripes shows, and while you can’t turn back the clock, fans were treated to the next best thing this week, when Mr. White announced a “surprise” show at his old stomping grounds just a couple of days before the main event Wednesday night.
And for those of us fortunate enough to bear witness, it’s difficult to overstate the “treat” that was in store for everyone that evening. It’s one thing to see Jack White at your local arena, or concert hall, or headlining a major festival with thousands of other people, but it’s quite another to witness his greatness in an intimate and historic setting the likes of The Empty Bottle. And so it was this writer who found himself roughly 10-15 feet from center stage when Mr. White and his band of sharp-dressed men began their epic 2+ hour performance promptly at 9:00 Wednesday night.
Sporting his patented bluish-dyed hair (which was actually looking more greenish technically, although could have been the lighting), Jack White and company wasted no time in blowing the crowd’s collective faces off by launching into the electrifying one-two punch of “Taking Me Back” and “Fear of the Dawn” to kick things off. It was certainly an emphatic way to start the evening, as those jams sounded just as powerful and thrilling live as they do on White’s shit-hot new album Fear of the Dawn (which might be the album of the year to this critic’s ears, but I digress). And just to make it adamantly clear that Jack White was not there to fuck around last night, he proceeded to deliver a downright scorching performance of “Black Math”, which proved to be the perfect follower for the aforementioned “Fear of the Dawn”. And before you could get your wits about you, it was “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” time, which of course was absolutely fantastic live.
Things really didn’t let up from there, as Mr. White and his excellent band delivered a multitude of spirited performances that effectively covered the full spectrum of White’s career to date. There were naturally plenty of White Stripes classics offered up, including a rag-time version of “Hotel Yorba”, a slightly peculiar rendition of the eternally endearing “We’re Going to be Friends”, a rightfully ripping performance of “Fell in Love With a Girl” (which kicked-off their encore), as well as nice album cuts like “The Same Boy You’ve Always Known”, who’s lyrics of “pretty tough to think about, the beginning of December” rang especially true Wednesday night.
Dead Weather fans were treated to “I Cut Like a Buffalo”, and of course, Raconteurs fans rightfully enjoyed “Steady As She Goes”, which elicited possibly the raucous crowd response of the night (which is really saying something). If that wasn’t enough, White’s performances from his solo records proved to be equally, if not more fun that the rest of his stellar material already on display, thanks to ridiculously awesome renderings of “Lazaretto”, the mind-blowing “High Ball Stepper”, and the quirky funk of “Hi-De-Ho”.
Essentially Jack White could do no wrong Wednesday night, probably because he was playing like a man possessed most of the evening. Indeed, it often felt like he was channeling the eccentric and electric spirit of Little Richard throughout his performance, hopping between the piano and center stage from time to time, often singing with his eyes closed, etc. You get the picture, Jack White isn’t just a great performer, he’s a special talent that clearly lives, breathes, eats, and sleeps music. It’s in his bones, so to speak, and for myself and the hundreds in attendance Wednesday night.
