The Dead Weather can keep a secret, but can’t stay quiet in Chicago

Official video plus photos and a review of the show

By Selena Fragassi
Published: May 24th, 2010 | 1:00pm

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Hot. Sweaty. Unexpected. Novel. The surprise act that had Chicago abuzz on Saturday night was just as descriptive as the secret and offbeat trucking company where the show was held. This one-off concert was the latest in a series sponsored by Microsoft’s new KIN phone—and although San Francisco was awarded with N.E.R.D. and Asher Roth, and New York City was offered Passion Pit and the Black Keys, clearly Chicago hit the jackpot with the Dead Weather.

The explosive quartet of Alison Mosshart, Jack White, Dean Fertita, and Jack Lawrence literally brought the fire with them to the smoldering Marquardt Trucking Company where little ventilation and a claustrophobically close stage had hyped fans suffocating on the band’s dominating blend of blues-infused horror rock. But if given the choice, many would have given their left lung to choke on the near-epic experience. After a week of fueled rumors and anticipation (and a year since the band’s last Chicago appearance), hundreds of eager fans swarmed a non-descript alley on the west side when the venue was finally announced at 4 p.m. Those that made the cut then waited another four hours for entry, but the Dead Weather responded with a set that exponentially returned the time invested.

Debuting tracks from the newly released Sea of Cowards (Warner Bros/Third Man), this defining performance proved that the band’s new album title could just as well be a finger-pointing declaration of the wave of half-ass, bloated rock outfits that continually wash ashore. Real rock ‘n’ roll lives and breathes in the Dead Weather and specifically the southern anti-belle Alison Mosshart.

With a dead-on gaze that could tempt saints and a rabid vocal range that could sway sinners, Mosshart moves you to repent ever listening to mild-mannered pop crooners. There’s not many who could upstage the keynote of rock, Jack White, but the Kills front woman does it with dexterity and vitriolic passion. With a sweaty mane and stalking gait, Mosshart looked every part the animal behind her leopard print jacket as she chewed apart raw tracks such as “New Pony,” “So Far from Your Weapon,” and “Treat Me Like Your Mother.” Hers is a voice culled from the soul leanings of Aretha Franklin, the gutteral echoes of Janis Joplin, and the punk angst of Johnny Rotten. But if her voice is a delicate test in balance and chemistry, so is the science behind the Dead Weather’s energy.

Not uncommon to many supergroups is an issue of ego but seemingly the Dead Weather is more apt to play fair—and by playing fair, they play honest. If there’s any touch of competitiveness it only lies in each individual member—White thrashing away on the drums like the best of the Bonhams, Fertita moving past the Stone Age with heavy-handed modern riffs, and Lawrence upping the ante with rich bass tones that could be felt measures beyond being heard. What’s even better is how well this band plays together—when White stepped up from behind his kit to join Mosshart at the mic stand for the closing number, the two connected in some interspatial insider’s joke that few in the room could possibly understand, but all could appreciate, admire, and applaud. As their mouths moved unbelievably close, only broken away when White rubber-banded into a mesmerizing guitar solo and Mosshart was left with that dead-on gaze, yes it was hot, sweaty, unexpected, and novel. The KINship extended beyond the stage to the floor, where a small few banded together in the ultimate feeling of success for finding the secret spot—but it was the Dead Weather who really hit the spot with a show that could be nothing but the forecast of a great future.

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The Dead Weather official site

The Dead Weather MySpace page

Third Man Records

Warner Bros Records

Read more about Jack White and the Dead Weather in the summer issue of Venus Zine, on newsstands June 1!