The many faces of Jack White

We’ve all been through Jack White’s many phases together—the red and white uniform of The White Stripes, the solid blues-rock with the boys of The Raconteurs and the biting grunge of The Dead Weather. We’ve witnessed a brother and a sister turned ex-husband and ex-wife, a nervous breakdown and a documentary made about White’s own status as a blues guitar legend, despite only being 37 years old.

We’ve seen it all at this point, which is why, as White stepped onstage at Agganis Arena on Friday night and his new logo of the three long white “i’s” unfurled behind him, I couldn’t help but look at this concert as just one of the many “i’s” of Jack White.

He pulled material from all over his various catalogues, opening with new single “Sixteen Saltines” but then going on to cover his own Dead Weather and Raconteurs material, Hank Williams and The White Stripes’ crowd favorite “Ball and Biscuit.” Although backed by his all-female band of Peacock Girls (ok), clad in white from head to toe (hah), it remained quite clear that this was the Jack White Show. In essence, he played a show covering his own songs.

Which, of course, did not discount the fact that White is probably the greatest guitar player of this generation. His solos sounded almost stupidly perfect as he reeled around, switching between microphones and banging on the piano in his newly branded colors of black and blue. And it was all the crowd could do to watch, almost still and silent, taking in the music note by ascending note.

But that all ended, naturally, with White and the Peacock Girls’ rendition of “Seven Nation Army.” It’s a powerful feeling when an entire arena simultaneously chants the famous bass line of the song for two minutes, stomping and clapping along. The Peacock Girls served as an excellent foil to White’s shrill guitar with rollicking fiddle riffs, bright piano and drumming that, as much as it pains me to say it, easily outstripped Meg White at her best.

All that said, somehow, it was still just not The White Stripes. White played through the set list perfectly, the backing band was solid and entertaining as hell, but still, something was missing. The show lacked the same urgency and fervor of the days of The White Stripes, the frenetic guitar freak-outs and the plodding so-called “childishness” of White’s drumming style. Before the band’s rendition of new song “Hypocritical Kiss,” White drawled into the microphone, “That’s just how it is, folks—by the book. One hundred percent by the book.” Maybe that’s the problem, Jack. You’re too by the book these days.