Meg White – My (life in) music lists

Best tunes of 2003: #16 The White Stripes “Girl, you have no faith in medicine”

I first came across The White Stripes with their third album, 2001’s “White blood cells”. The primary single from that album, “Fell in love with a girl”, came in at number three on my Best tunes list for that year. And I wrote in that very post about their blues-influenced garage rock and their contribution to the early 2000s indie rock resurgence.

For an encore, Jack and Meg White put together what is arguably their best album, critically and commercially, as a group. Recorded in two weeks in the spring of 2002, purportedly without the help of any technology newer than the early 1960s, “Elephant”, their fourth, found favour with a lot of people, placed the group in the hearts and minds of everyone, each player recognized for their instrumental prowess and the album on many best of the year, decade, and century lists. Personally, I found it delightful from many angles, my favourite track a moving target from day to day while I was initially discovering it, finding in it much to pick apart and unpack. In the end, though, it wasn’t their two big tracks “The hardest button to button” or “Seven nation army”*, nor the Burt Bacharach/Dusty Springfield cover “I just don’t know what to do with myself”** but the penultimate track on the album, “Girl, you have no faith in medicine”, that got me going every time.

Interestingly, this track was recorded for and was supposed to appear on “White blood cells”. Meg wasn’t a fan of it, however, so it was pulled and shelved until Jack lobbied hard for it a couple of year later. A lyric that Meg really took offence to was pulled and the track was re-recorded for “Elephant”. Jack being Jack, he used to tease Meg with it when they played it live and changed the lyrics to ‘Meg, you have no faith in medicine’. I don’t know and really don’t want to investigate what the offending lyric was because if Meg thought it misogynistic, I don’t want it to ruin the song for me.

Indeed, the words in this song have always little import for me. Some have talked about its placebo references and linked it to relationships and others have marvelled how White managed to string the word ‘Acetaminophen’ into the lyrics. I just think the song rocks, and that, in an album full of bangers. Meg’s anger with the skins is palpable and Jack is unrelenting on the guitars. He howls and screams breathlessly and dares us all to keep up with him. Sometimes it’s just this energy that you need to feel and absorb and that will get you through.

*The latter of which is played every night in some stadium or arena somewhere on earth.

**Though it is quite fantastic also.

For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.

Best tunes of 2001: #3 The White Stripes “Fell in love with a girl”

<< #4 | #2 >>

In 2001 and 2002, garage rock emerged to take the mantle as champion of the indie rock resurgence. The epicentres of the revival were New York, whose scene was led by Interpol and The Strokes (appearing at #5 on this list), and Detroit, from which came The Detroit Cobras and The White Stripes.

Yep. Before Third Man Records, The Dead Weather, The Raconteurs, and a rather notable solo career, Jack White was in a little band called The White Stripes. Formed in 1997 with then wife, Meg, whose last name Jack took when they wed, the duo recorded six albums together before disbanding in 2011. The White Stripes became known for their tightly stylized image – they were most notably rigorous in the use of their red, white, and black colour scheme – and their blues-inflected sound, Meg’s stomping, bass heavy beats, and Jack’s raunchy guitars and raw vocals. Indeed, as things went on, they became less connected with their garage rock roots and more about blues revival.

Interesting, then, that their breakthrough came with their least blues-influenced album, their third, “White blood cells”, and this exciting single that had no traces of it whatsoever. “Fell in love with a girl” sounds like it was it borne out of the garage that welded together the pieces of the garage that housed the rock. It’s a quick adrenaline blip that doesn’t even make the two minute mark. At that length, you can almost hear Jack screaming, “there’s no time for an intro – we gotta go!”. The drums are muddy as hell and violent, Meg channelling her inner animal. Jack even sounds like he’s having trouble keeping up with her and his own raucous guitar work with his vocals, almost breathless for the duration, his attempts at proper diction dispensed with and you have no trouble imagining his gummed up mic covered in spittle. There’s anger and disdain and the feeling of betrayal.

It’s almost exhausting how great this tune is. Enjoy.