Usually this is the feeling erupting when I encounter snow fall for the first time of the season. Today it was watching Jack White at the HMV Arena.
Since I haven't listened properly to any of Mr White's sonic excursions since The White Stripes, a traditional
concert review would stand on muddy foundations here.
I simply wish to write this to remember how awesome his guitar playing was- how the instrument scqueaked in delight like a masochistic servant in his hands. His distinct voice is so cool, mastering soulful and spiteful, effortlessly.
It was a good mix of old and new songs and there was a fine stage dynamic between the black haired scarecrow (Jack White) and his all female band. The southern american country influences were stronger than in White Stripes or Dead Weather. This band is less of a youth rebellion anthem-machine.