I put together a retrospective of The White Stripes frontman’s various sonic disguises for Metromix last week, which was a hoot. As much as I love White’s musical talent, I love his obsession with the Tesla coil in Jim Jarmusch’s somber hoot Coffee and Cigarettes (pictured above) even more. But there are plenty more where that came from, if you’re looking for alternative Whites.

Jack White: The Hardest Working Man in Rock
[Scott Thill, Metromix]
The many guises of the multi-talented John Anthony Gillis, otherwise known as Jack White, have made him that most paradoxical of famous figures: an indie rock superstar (not to mention, a very rich man). With recent collaborations with the Kills’ Alison Mosshart and cowpunk Dex Romweber (pictured) on the burner for 2009, now is as good a time as any to chart the productive path of 21st century rock’s greatest sonic chameleon. MORE @ METROMIX

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The White Stripes, White Blood Cells
[Scott Thill, Morphizm]
we should be interested when some no-name band consisting of only two people, neither of them musical geniuses, from some small-market label start making waves and appearances on late-night television. Such is the growing rep of the White Stripes, the brother-sister combo of Jack and Meg White (hence, the band’s name), who have on accident or on purpose countered the high-tech production of clean noise found in today’s music with a bracing dose of honest, sensitive lyrics buttressed by drums and a guitar. That’s it. Ok, maybe a harmonica or organ thrown in here or there. But not much more. MORE @ MORPHIZM

Serious Delirium: Coffee and Cigarettes
[Cynthia Fuchs, Morphizm]
Coffee and Cigarettes is a return, of sorts, for Jim Jarmusch. It takes him back to the black and white, wise-vignette style filmmaking of Stranger Than Paradise (1983) or the riffs on a theme of Mystery Train (1989) and Night on Earth (1991) or even the elegant looseness of Down By Law (1986). Low budget and low “speed” (in the sense that conversations over the titular substances don’t move especially quickly, or engage grand-scaled philosophies), the film is really a set of 10 film-ettes, shot over a decade, featuring friends of the director and some well known figures, all eccentric, all compelling.

The collection is held together by what might be termed a thematic focus (the coffee and cigarettes, or more generally, the medicinal uses of addictions and obsessions), the weird ways in which most of the actors are playing “themselves,” and some formal repetitions: the camera, wielded by brilliant cinematographers Tom DiCillo, Frederick Elmes, Ellen Kuras, and Robby Müller, returns to the overhead shots of coffee cups and ashtrays on checkerboard-clothed café tables, or close-ups of participants as they talk around what they want or show off what they might know while revealing what they can’t. MORE @ MORPHIZM