Jack White is a man of mystery. So much so, there was an uncomfortable air of tension at his recent gig at London’s Alexandra Palace. As a musician who rejects set lists, chooses his backing band on the day, and has three bands worth of material alongside solo projects, it is safe to say there is no ‘typical’ Jack White gig. 

The stage didn’t reveal much; minimalist, with sparse lighting and instruments shrouded in blue sheets. How very cryptic… New Zealander Willy Moon opened the show, throwing some serious shapes on stage while crooning his indie rock and roll ballads. Perhaps the audience was still thawing out from queuing in arctic conditions, as Moon’s gyrating hips and Screamin Jay Hawkins howling failed to impress, leaving many of the crowd sulking that The Kills weren’t supporting White on both nights of his London stint.  

Stagehands bedecked in slick suits and donning fedoras could have easily been mistaken as extras in Bugsy Malone, yet their uniform precision and style signaled that White would soon appear. When he did, accompanied by his male baking band, The Buzzards, they simply walked on stage, picked up their instruments and started to play. Where was the rock-and-roll fanfare? No hoo-ha, no eyebrow singing pyro, no being wheeled out in an egg? The simple, somewhat anti-climatic entrance set the tone for the rest of the concert. These guys were simply here to play their music, and play it damn well. The thudding bass drum of The White Stripes’ classic 'The Hardest Button to Button' opened the show, obliterating the tension in the room with a gritty fervor, and instantly rendered the crowd into a sea of bobbing heads and flailing limbs. The set soon progressed to White’s solo material, with 'Missing Pieces' and 'I Guess I Should Go To Sleep' allowing the impressive line up of steel guitar, fiddle, mandolin and harmonica to convince White’s sceptics that his recent Blues solo efforts could get hands clapping and hips shaking as much as the earlier garage rock anthems.

White’s energy and prowess are mesmerizing, and he dexterously maneuvers from amped up electric to splintered acoustic.  It is Luddite rock at it’s finest- gnarly licks and snarling rhythms that spew and pour out of instruments strapped with duct tape from being throttled so much. Camaraderie and experimentation pervaded the stage, White’s eyes gleaming with playful spirit, joking about the new style, “If you don’t like the steel guitar, you don’t like ice-cream”.  From White cracking his voice into an unnatural falsetto in 'Sixteen Saltines' to keyboardist Ikey Owens pummeling the rickety piano’s keys with spectator-clad feet during 'Black Math', White and the boys brought a coltish charm to the classics, a new onstage dynamism that only served to excite the crowd even more.

With such an extensive catalogue of music, the show dutifully paid homage to White’s time in The White Stripes, The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather. Covers of Big Joe Williams' 'Baby, Please Don’t Go' and Hank Williams’s 'You Know That I Know' were relished by White acolytes, if not lost on the younger fans, however it was the unexpected outing of tracks 'Top Yourself' (The Raconteurs) and 'Two Against One' (Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi) that were moments of pure, unadulterated brilliance.  After a frenzied opening, they elicited paradisiac vocals and a threatening intensity that had the audience hooked on White’s every note and drawl. White’s sexy lyrics paired with even sexier sideburns left women in the audience weak at the knees, with lines like “Takes sleeping with a snake like you to rip apart my soul”, making us all secretly wanting to be one of these serpent ladies.

After a rollicking hour journeying through fifteen years of music, White and his bros returned for a four-song encore. The visceral lyrics of 'Freedom at 21' riled what was a typically civilized ‘British’ crowd, and Aly Paly’s floor soon resembled a southern bar brawl, people moshing, drinks being thrown and pointy elbows spearing strangers in reckless abandon. Ending the show on a high with the epic 'Seven Nation Army' along with some gratuitous guitar smashing (well, it was a rock show after all), was the perfect closure to a night that proved White is still as unique and distinctive as ever.