Molly: I love Jack White like a little brother.
Jack: Well Molly I love you too…
Molly: Tee hee! *blush*
I have changed my mind about Jack White.
He is no longer a USM.
He is a Beautiful Sexy Man. With amazing radiant charismatic powers that can be clearly perceived from the 12th row at Red Rocks.
And Meg White is a Beautiful Sexy Woman. I think Jim’s still trembling when he thinks about her. Hee.
But let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?
Before the White Stripes (or their very worthwhile opener, the Greenhornes) took the stage, it was necessary to instruct Fisher in some of the finer points of concert etiquette.
We must never neglect to show our appreciation for the wonderful music so graciously provided to us by these talented folks. Right, Buzz?
I had every intention of making a set list but I forgot to bring a notebook. Blah. So here are some of the highlights:
- Opener: "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground"
- Made Fisher’s frickin’ day: "I Think I Smell a Rat" AND "We Are Going to Be Friends"
- Everybody pogo!: "Hotel Yorba"
- Go Meg Go: "Passive Manipulation" (twice!) AND "In the Cold, Cold Night" (rare and beautiful!)
- Big fat noisy grindin’ blues: "Ball and Biscuit"
- Amazing cover which was approximately 900 times better than the original, which I don’t like at all: "Love Sick" (originally by Bob Dylan)
- Sing-along fun time: "Little Ghost"
But of course, since nothing is ever quite as perfectly perfect, they did not play two of the songs I was rully rully rully hoping they would play (and thought they would play, seeing as how Meg had her kettledrums out):
- "Take Take Take" which they apparently never ever play
- "Jolene" which they almost always play
Know what’s cute about taking a six-year-old to a concert? He does this:
Yes, he spent the last four songs of the encore sound asleep on the bench behind us. Amazing, the power of exhaustion.
Before crashing, though, he was quite a charmer… there were two super-cute alt girls right near us who were digging him highly. One kept turning around to make sure he could see and shoving her boyfriend when necessary to keep him out of Fisher’s line of sight. The other one let him sit next to her when his legs got tired (she was in the row behind us, so he could still see the stage). And there were two frat boys who busted out a big fatty right next to him… then realized he was there and fell all over themselves apologizing. (Me: "Don’t worry about it… just don’t blow smoke on him.") And there were a few stoned drunk early-twentiesish types behind us who kept cracking up at everything he said.
All in all, it was a fine experience and we can’t wait to do it again. Maybe next time Wilco comes through town…
One last photo for y’all. Enjoy the musical majesty that is the White Stripes.