By: David Schultz

Success can do strange things to a band. It can also do strange things to the band's fan base. The White Stripes have always had a following amongst discerning listeners who pride themselves on their exceptional taste in music and concomitant ability to detect talent long before the rest of the world catches on. Fans who picked up on the stripped down, minimalist sound of the Stripes' eponymous debut and sophomore effort De Stijl watched like proud parents as White Blood Cells, Elephant and their latest release Get Behind Me Satan skyrocketed the band to credible success. Unfortunately, as evidenced by the crowd at this Sunday's show at Coney Island's Keyspan Park, there is a dark side to this story. The Stripes' popularity has spread to the high school level, causing a crowd more apropos to a Blink 182 show to come screech their little brains out. In the general admission atmosphere of the ballpark, the younger concert-goers lack of concert "etiquette" became mildly distracting as the evening wore on.

Striding onto the stage constructed in dead centerfield, the Stripes, clad in jauntily matching white outfits with red trim, looked like a pair of villains from the campy TV version of Batman. With Meg White quietly and demurely taking her seat behind the drum kit, brother, ex-husband, passing acquaintance and local hobo Jack White prowled the stage in a manically possessed state taking self photos with a Polaroid camera and then dismissively flinging them into the audience. Launching into When I Hear My Name, the Whites proceeded to speed through an intense 90 minute set showcasing Jack White's distinctive ability to adrenalize blues riffs into a menacing mélange of noise. With the stage basically to himself, Jack bounced like a child with ADD between different sets of keyboards, the marimba and several strategically placed microphones all while unleashing a devastating aural assault from his guitar.

In concert, the Stripes do not expand or significantly deviate from the studio versions of their songs. However, they hardly recite them note for note either. The most notable difference came during Denial Twist, forgoing the piano accompaniment for electric guitar, Jack managed to give the song additional swagger. The Stripes touched on their current hits, racing through Blue Orchid and My Doorbell and used Meg’s admonishing Passive Manipulation as a bridge to a foot-stomping version of Dead Leaves In The Dirty Ground. Perpetual motion personified, Jack White rarely stood still, stopping only momentarily at the keyboards for an intriguing cover of Bob Dylan's Love Sick and pausing at the marimba for The Nurse.

There is nothing fancy about Meg White's drumming, but then again the same could be said could be said for Maureen Tucker. There was also nothing fancy about the featured opening act, The Shins. They may not have changed anyone's life this evening but they did prove deserving of the hype surrounding them. In their tight 45 minute set, the Shins gave their songs a looser workout relieving them of the mopey mood that permeates much of Chutes Too Narrow.

The Stripes saved their most intense onslaught for the end. Saving the hardest and the funkiest for the end, the White's interjected the howling Red Rain into The Hardest Button to Button before revving up the blues on Ball and Biscuit and bottoming out the bass on Seven Nation Army. Anticlimactically, the show finished on its slowest note with Jack beseeching the audience to sing along with him on the last verse of Brook Benton's Boll Weevil. White's attempt to end the show on a sentimental note fell slightly flat, owing to the fact that he usually evokes more emotion with his aching heart on his sleeve and the amplifiers cranked to 11.

The Stripes' popularity presents problems to their core fan base. As each new album pushes past the boundaries set by the previous one, they attract a wider audience. Much like Pearl Jam in the early 90's, the Stripes are outgrowing their old haunts and trying to find their comfort zone in newer ones. While outdoor shows usually disappoint due to the difficult acoustics, Keyspan Park, home of minor league baseball's Brooklyn Cyclones, the Stripes turned it into a surprisingly intimate venue. The crowds will grow as the arenas get larger and it will be interesting to see how the Stripes broaden their stage show to match their popularity while still making the same connection with the audience.

Labels: Jack White, White Stripes