The White Stripes and the Legacy of Mystery

We said goodbye to The White Stripes this week. We knew it was coming, knew their story arc was headed downward. We knew they were losing the youthful passion for playful enigma and offbeat humor. Even so, we couldn’t help but hope for one more album, one more hard charging concert or out of place appearance on Conan. But such is not to be.

I love The White Stripes for a couple of reasons. First, the music just rocks. Though they started out as mere garage-rock novelty, fans quickly realized that the stuff they were putting out was a significant cut above par. Jack’s fabulous guitar playing (he was named the 17th greatest guitar player of all time by Rolling Stone) and experimentation combined with Meg’s intriguingly amateurish drums to create sounds we did not know were possible, even for bands with more instruments to work with. Over time, Jack’s restless creativity evolved beyond (without losing its commitment to) the punk/blues beginnings to take on elements of country, celtic, and folk music. Further, they thought up all sorts of self-imposed limitations (such as ancient equipment, cheap instruments, and quick recording times) that made the music feel classic in the same way people enjoy listening to music on vinyl rather than CD. These things made every Stripes album fresh, exciting, thoughtful, and fun at the same time.

I also love them for their relentless promotion of their genre and interests. By staying committed to their own oddities and the elements that helped them stand out, they renewed a sense of authenticity in blues and rock as soulful rebellion- not so much in the sense of anger toward authority, but in rebelling against the pressure to be, um, normal.

Perhaps most important, though, I love The White Stripes for the way they have created, promoted, and preserved a strong sense of the value of mystery and legend. Throughout their story, Jack and Meg managed to stay in control of their message. They pretended to be brother and sister rather than (now ex) husband and wife. Jack wrote songs that spoke to deeply held emotions without ever revealing exactly what they meant or what life experiences drove them. They stayed cagey and elusive during interviews, including during the documentary Under Great White Northern Lights made about their Canadian tour. They controlled every aspect of their publicity, down to the music videos, editing of the documentary, and even the way they left the scene.

Of course, this approach had its annoyances and imperfections. Jack’s relentless self-promotion and Meg’s inability to express herself and let us identify with her could be off-putting, and the unanswered questions got frustrating at times. But all these actions kept questions and curiosity racing through our minds. They made us want more: more music, more information, more insight into the quirky, romantic, tragic lives of Jack and Meg. They made us want to know everything.

But when the answers didn’t come, we began to settle in; we accepted that there are things they just will not tell us, and things we will never know. We may never be told why they broke up the marriage early on but not the band, or what the relationship between Rita Hayworth and Meg is in Jack’s mind, or what Meg was thinking and feeling when she cried during Jack’s rendition of “White Moon” at the end of Northern Lights.

By their preservation of mystery, Jack and Meg have become more than enigmas to their fans; they have passed into the realm of legend and myth. They have caused us to value uncertainty as a rich and deep and beautiful part of both art and life, by showing us that withholding tell-all information has made us think harder, delve deeper into our own emotional lives, and ultimately love the music more.

It’s here that I think the Christian can most appreciate what The White Stripes have done. Christians (especially fans of, say, C.S. Lewis or George MacDonald) recognize that living with the mysteries of God is an inherent part of our lives, and sometimes that can be discouraging. A questioning and skeptical world wants to know everything about how sovereign grace works, or why God’s justice is so severe, or why worldly suffering cannot be lessened. We don’t know those answers perfectly. But bands like The White Stripes remind us that being okay with those tensions is rich and beautiful too, and help us see that sometimes we are better off not knowing. Sometimes withheld answers force us to work harder to understand, and that hard work is itself a joyful and important reward.

Some may mock Christians for not always knowing and yet loving and believing even so. Let them. Christianity has all the credibility and intelligence and thoughtfulness in the world, but at some point they are right: we don’t always know. For the last 13 plus years, Jack and Meg have been shining examples of why uncertainty is okay, why mystery be beautiful , and why we’re probably better off not always knowing.

Thanks so much, you two. We’ll miss you.