Jack White

Jack White compares Trump’s Oval Office glitz to a pro-wrestler’s locker room

Interpolating the tone of a reality show confessional and the sarcasm of a punk zine, Jack White lashes out against Donald Trump’s baroque White House redesign, likening its gilded accents to a wrestler's dressing room. The musician, who once restored vintage furniture, accuses Trump of aesthetic vulgarity and capitalist self-worship, tagging Ric Flair’s Instagram as a not-so-subtle jab.

His post, featuring a gaudy Oval Office shot with Zelenskyy, comes with acidic rhetorical flair—“Would you even buy a used car from this conman?”

Jack White tags all 30 MLB parks—bat in hand, no curtain call needed

Interpolating the ritual of minor obsessions with the grandeur of stitched leather and pine tar, Jack White declares the completion of his decade-spanning pilgrimage: attending a baseball game in all 30 Major League stadiums. His final stop? Citizens Bank Park, where the Tigers overtake the Phillies, wrapping his mission in team-colored symmetry.

His affinity runs deeper than spectator status—throwing first pitches, investing in bat companies, donating to Detroit field restorations, even appearing on Topps baseball cards. No self-congratulatory fanfare, just cleats, chalk, and a bat-wielding backstage frenzy before shows.

John C. Reilly dons mitre and mischief as Jack White brings mass to music video

John C. Reilly steps into the role of Archbishop Harold Holmes in Jack White’s latest video tied to his 2024 album, No Name. Reilly’s performance lands just after the release of his own project, What’s Not to Love.

Draped in ecclesiastical flair, the video gives White a quasi-liturgical platform, channeling theatricality rather than revelation. Reilly presides with ceremonial gravitas, blurring the line between ritual and satire.

Jack White crashes Idles set at Riot Fest, brings blues bite to punk brawl

Jack White, after headlining Riot Fest’s Saturday lineup in Chicago, returns unexpectedly on Sunday for a cameo with Idles during their performance. The moment of collective guitar grit takes form as they perform “Never Fight a Man With a Perm,” a track known less for subtlety than for sonic punches and theatrical disdain.

White doesn’t outshine but rather grafts himself onto the controlled chaos, letting the song’s aggression breathe while offering a twist of his own raw blues-informed bite. The appearance unfolds more like a welcomed infiltration than a planned collaboration.