Meg White, Somebody Still Loves You

On my 21st birthday, I found myself couch-crashing with some friends in chilly Portland, Maine. While browsing vinyl at Bull Moose Records, I stumbled upon a concert poster for one of my all-time musical heroes: Neil Young. I knew I had to go, despite being cash-strapped at the time. But, as fate would have it, the show turned out to be more than just a one-man performance. Social Distortion and Sonic Youth were also on the lineup.

Well, that cinched it: I was going to experience this show, no matter what.

The concert offerings had me elated, and I couldn't help but wonder what the tour organizers were drinking when they put the bill together. Neil Young, a certified classic rock act, and Sonic Youth, firmly ensconced within the punk rock scene, didn't have a whole lot of overlap among their respective fan bases. But who cares? I was going to have the best birthday present ever.

The day of the show finally arrived, and Social Distortion opened with a back-to-basics, three-chord rock and roll set that sounded “classic rock” enough to earn them respectful applause. Sonic Youth followed, and that's when things got a bit rocky. Uproarious boos began with the very first squeal of feedback, and persisted until the quartet left the stage a mere 20 minutes later, hunched against the rude jeers and flying plastic cups. But as someone who had played punk rock for belligerent small-town rednecks and somehow survived, I understood the frustration and fear-for-safety they must have been experiencing. Despite the chaos, the eternal queen-of-cool, Kim Gordon, bravely tossed down indomitable bass thunder as the maelstrom of shouts (and sadly, sexist taunts) swirled about her. Kim Gordon is a rock god in my book, and if you haven't read her memoir "Girl in a Band," you should do so as soon as possible.

Then, Neil Young and Crazy Horse took the stage, opening with a version of Bob Dylan’s “Blowing in the Wind.” The first sounds anyone heard? Epic feedback, virtually indistinguishable from that heard at the top of Sonic Youth’s set. And yet, the crowd’s response was “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” It's always challenging to enjoy certain artists' music because of the types of people they draw, and for me, the Neil Young show was no exception. But I eventually moved past it and got back on the crazy horse. It was, in the end, a really, really great set.

So how does Meg White fit into all of this? Well, my initial attraction to the Crazy Horse sound was their rough-and-tumble, under-practiced vibe. One thing I've always noticed, though, is that a primitive and rudimentary-at-best drummer like Ralph Molina gets a pass for his unpolished playing, while similarly iconic drummers like Karen Carpenter or the Velvet Underground’s Mo Tucker get bashed and ridiculed for their no-fuss approach to music-making.

The reason? They're not dudes

Fast forward a decade later the Neil Young/Sonic Youth feedback fest, and a new brash rock band has arrived on the scene, an outfit calling themselves the White Stripes. A number of my friends were raving about them, so I dutifully picked up their records and gave them some spins. I’ll admit now that I wasn’t immediately catching on to what it was that had people all up in a tizzy, though I dug it enough to pick up a ticket for their upcoming Austin show. If only to see what all the hoopla is all about.

I walked into Stubb’s amphitheater a skeptic.

I walked out a person forever changed. I’d been too frustratingly young to have seen Led Zeppelin live, but — in my mind — I’d just seen the next best thing.

It was just THAT GOOD.

As the show progressed, I was completely absorbed in the music, but I couldn't help but notice the distracting chatter of some audience members who were fixated on Meg's gender and her drumming ability. It was disheartening to see that, even in this day and age, some people were unable to look past their sexist attitudes and appreciate the incredible talent that Meg brought to the table. But to me, she was the beating heart of this band, infusing each song with a primal, visceral energy that set them apart from their peers.

How sad for them to let their sexist attitudes distract them from Meg’s otherworldly — and criminally underrated — talent. A talent which was sadly overshadowed by her undeniably gifted ex, Jack White.

To those of you who believe Meg to be a talentless hack, I have a question: Can you name ONE single thing Jack White post-White Stripes which is as vital and as important as the work he did with Meg? One band? One album? One song? I'll wait.

And I'll generously spare you the effort. You can't.

Without Meg's energetic, keep-it-simple approach, Jack's work — while terrific — is missing that one magical — and utterly irreplaceable — ingredient.

Also, if Meg White and Kim Gordon ever decide to create a supergroup of badasses, I'll be there. Front and center.

All of which is to say: Happy birthday to you, Meg White!