Stripes white hot in full-bodied performance

Spencer Patterson

Monday, Sept. 22, 2003 | 8:16 a.m.

How else could two musicians produce such a glorious ruckus?

Saturday night the Detroit duo of Jack and Meg White showed a crowd of about 1,900 at The Joint at the Hard Rock Hotel just how they do it.

Striding to the stage just after midnight, the Stripes raged for 90 minutes, filling the room with their earsplitting brand of electric blues-rock.

The crowd, which snapped up tickets to the sold-out event weeks ago, worshipped every note produced by the pair, even prompting a smile or two from the normally stone-faced Jack White.

"It's been very nice to play in Las Vegas," White said during a break in an eight-song encore. "Meg and I have never gambled before, but we took a gamble coming here. And it paid off, thanks to you."

The Stripes were a study in contrasts in their Vegas debut, and not just between the white-and-red tones of their clothing, instruments and stage props.

One moment they were fast and furious, blazing viciously through heavy numbers such as "Black Math" off latest release "Elephant" or "The Big Three Killed My Baby" off their 1999 self-titled debut.

As Meg bashed at her drums with a ferocity belying her slight frame, Jack wailed away on his guitar and howled alternately into one of three microphones. The mike set up near Meg's drum set added a feedback effect to his vocals, a fitting match to his distortion-laced guitar work on many songs.

Then, suddenly, the Stripes would transform into a Delta blues act, with Meg laying back considerably on the drums while Jack demonstrated what he has absorbed from hours of spinning Son House and Charley Patton records.

Rolling Stone magazine recently tapped the 28-year-old White as history's 17th greatest guitarist, a stretch by even the most crazed Stripes' fans estimations.

Still, White did make his case as one of the most exciting ax men on the popular music scene today. Spitting out bits of a half-eaten apple as he played, he conjured up memories of a young Jimmy Page, both in terms of his Zeppelin-esque riffs and his devilish looks.

"It's quite possible that I'm your third man girl / But it's a fact that I'm the seventh son," White snorted wickedly during "Ball and Biscuit," his eyes glowing maniacally behind shaggy locks hanging over his face.

He whipped his hair, stomped about and during one long solo, fell to the stage and played from a prone position.

In July, White broke his left index finger in three places in a car accident. There was little evidence of that injury Saturday night, save for an aborted stab at "Offend in Every Way" off 2001 CD "White Blood Cells."

"I can't play this song. I can't play D-minor right now," White announced.

Instead, the duo launched into the creepy "The Union Forever," one of several numbers featuring Jack on organ.

As always, the Stripes were without a bassist, but you'd hardly know it listening to their live show. Jack used every inch of his instrument's neck to give the music a solid low end, while Meg added to the boom by thundering loudly on her bass drum.

The pasty-faced pair also showed a sweet side, performing gentle cuts such as "I Want to Be the Boy to Warm Your Mother's Heart," "You've Got Her in Your Pocket" and "We're Going to Be Friends," the latter turning into an impromptu crowd singalong.

Meg also stepped out from behind her drums for her signature song, "In the Cold, Cold, Night." Though she seemed a bit bashful when the audience cheered her advance to the micorphone, her voice sounded considerably stronger it did during April's "Coachella Valley Music & Arts Festival" in Indio, Calif.

The two Stripes -- a divorced couple who pretend to be brother and sister -- were locked musically all night, shifting tempos and segueing between songs with only the slightest of eye contact.

"My sister thanks you, and I thank you," Jack said at as they finished, keeping up the sibling charade.

The White Stripes played their biggest hits ("Seven Nation Army," "Fell in Love With a Girl"), deep album cuts ("Screwdriver," "Your Southern Can Is Mine") and traditional blues tunes ("Death Letter," "The Boll Weevil Song").

During "Cannon," Jack even added a bit of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" in place of the usual "John the Revelator" middle section, just one of many spontaneous moments in the set.

I left with virtually no complaints, save for the loud volume during the Little Lulu and Betty Boop cartoons playing on a screen before the show and between acts.

The openers themselves were entertaining but hardly spectacular.

Whirlwind Heat left a lasting impression with its bizarre final number, "Pink" (aka "Trash Bag Helmet") which devolved into a mass of wailing saxophone and crashing drums, as singer David Swanson wrapped himself and his bandmates up in yards of electrical tape.

I was expecting slightly more from the Soledad Brothers, an indie-blues band whose songs basically all sounded the same to me.

That certainly couldn't be said of the White Stripes, who could very well be the best live rock act going, proving when it comes to band members, less can indeed add up to much, much more.