The Beat Report: How The Dead Weather saved my summer

Posted on Sept. 10, 2009, at 1:47 a.m.

If you’re like me and spent your summer somewhere in New England, chances are you got pretty used to hearing one word: “rain.” Nearly every morning throughout May, June and into July, I was greeted by a miserably grey sky and the soft pitter-patter of drizzle hitting my roof. “Where is summer?” I cried out in frustration, for the carefree season I was used to seemed only a distant memory.

Yet even as my misery worsened with every drop of rain that hit the ground, I knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel. If the sun couldn’t show its face long enough to save me, perhaps music, my most trusted form of elation, could rescue me from despair. On July 14 I bought “Horehound,” the debut album by The Dead Weather, and my life turned around.

I had been patiently awaiting the release of this album for some time. The Dead Weather is a garage rock supergroup the likes of which the world has never seen. Jack White, of The White Stripes and The Raconteurs, abandons his axe to sit behind a drum set — his original instrument. Together with the seductively abrasive vocals of Alison Mosshart of The Kills, the super-fuzzed bass licks of Jack Lawrence of The Raconteurs and the blazing guitar riffs of Dean Fertita of Queens of the Stone Age, The Dead Weather are a force to be reckoned with.

The album is immaculate — a true testament to modern music. It is raw and oozes creativity. What stands out even beyond the actual songs is the album’s production, done by White. He gives every instrument a personality, complete with flaws, giving the tracks so much depth and life it is almost overwhelming. This album reignited my belief in music as an art form.

As I listened to it over and over, I began to see the sun more and more. I could finally do things like go to the beach, go camping, and walk from my house to my car without getting my second shower of the day. Perhaps the relationship between the album and the weather is just a coincidence, though I highly doubt it.

Even as summer began winding down at an alarming rate, The Dead Weather kept me occupied. As a subscriber to their YouTube channel, I was treated to footage of live performances, music videos and behind-the-scenes interviews. As I watched a ten-minute interview they posted, I began laughing uncontrollably — I am quite sure all members of the band were drunk when it was recorded. I suddenly felt an eerie connection to this band. I saw them as real people — regular people capable of creating exquisite works of art.

In the cluttered world of commercialized music, The Dead Weather’s authenticity shines a light just as bright as the sun I was missing all summer. Being subjected to song after song by Lady GaGa, Sean Kingston and the Black Eyed Peas all summer was perhaps just as bad as waking up to a wet, colorless world. No, The Dead Weather didn’t make the sun come out, but simply reasserted that great musicians can change people’s lives.

Campus Currents: The Beat Report