White out

Farewell, then, to the White Stripes. Methinks Stevie Chick may have had a deep draught of Overstatement Ale before claiming that there was a "massive outpouring of grief" at the news of their demise, but I've no doubt that De Stijl, White Blood Cells and Elephant are great albums and in their early days they were absolutely electrifying live (at Glastonbury 2002, for instance) - two people with a telepathic understanding and phenomenally explosive chemistry.

Sadly things changed - that simplicity and red-rawness got lost, perhaps inevitably, as they were thrust into the limelight. Gratefully in Jack's case, it seemed. Ewen Spencer nails it: "I walked backstage, and he was sat in what looked like a throne, talking to Alice Cooper. I thought, things have moved on; he's become an epic rock star, an icon, in that way." But just as much as that sort of pretention turned me off them, so did the alternative form - Jack's hammed-up persona, a downhome downhearted boy regularly wronged by an assortment of women. I haven't got Get Behind Me Satan or Icky Thump and, from what I've heard of them, can't honestly say there's a hole in my record collection.

Afraid I can't resist wondering whether it would be mischievous to suggest that their split was down to musical differences - one could play their instrument and the other couldn't...

Still, for anyone mourning for the Stripes, at least there's positive news in the form of the return of Beavis And Butt-head and their inspired critical commentary on the music videos du jour and much else besides. "Hello, is that the National Accident Helpline? I'd like to report an injury. I've got a large crack in my butt..."