Opinions differ on Mr. White and understandably so: his constant reconciliation of gorilla-like brutality (drinks with Trent after the show, my good man?) and artisme is not always the most elegant. But I'm not worried about Jack White; he can keep doing what he's doing without impacting Foals or their shittily unironic debut "Antidotes." And that, my friends, is the problem!
I decided on Jack White as the lens through which I can slam the likes of Foals' opener "Cassius" simply because he's the successful incarnation of their desire. Not that he's an "art school dropout" from "oXXXford" or that their Disstilled (Gooooaall!) blend of The Rapture and These New Puritans is in any way similar to White's mandolins, pianos, and virtuoso aspirations. 3.1/10 (Murdered)
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