The great White way

Ever notice how so many bands try to align themselves with rock’s legendary forces by playing classic recordings over the sound system before taking the stage? Depending on the group’s musical slant, you might hear the Beatles, the Clash or Gram Parsons.

So what does it tell you when the White Stripes play old Betty Boop and Little Lulu cartoons on video screens before their concerts?

The lighthearted diversion is one way for the Detroit duo of Jack and Meg White to signal they aren’t letting all this talk about being the most important American rock band since Nirvana go to their heads.

In opening a sold-out, three-night stand Monday at the Greek Theatre, singer-guitarist Jack and his ex-wife drummer Meg played with a fury and renegade spirit that was by turns thrilling and inspiring. Some in the crowd no doubt would have preferred the duo stick to its best-known numbers, but that’s not the spirit of the Stripes.

During the 90-minute set, Jack White mixed and matched songs from various phases of the band’s career, some obscure enough to make casual fans think they were previews of tracks from the next album, or maybe 75-year-old blues nuggets.

Playing guitar at times with such speed that he seemed to be cutting notes into quarters and halves, White was equally quick mentally, peppering various songs with such unexpected seasoning as a chorus of “Shine On, Harvest Moon” here or a bit of an Elvis Presley croon there.

There have been other great American bands since Nirvana, including Nine Inch Nails and the Smashing Pumpkins, but they wilted under the pressures of stardom.

Part of the excitement surrounding the Stripes is that Jack White, the team’s leader, seems so intent on following his own path that you could hit him over the head with a two-by-four and he’d just keep going. He has been neither corrupted nor blinded by success.

That makes “Seven Nation Army,” the tenacious song that was the alt-rock radio sensation of the summer, sound like a personal battle cry when White sings, “I’m gonna fight ‘em off / A seven nation army couldn’t hold me back.”

The song, which opens the band’s “Elephant” album, is a superbly designed piece of rock ‘n’ roll dynamics -- a record that combines the dark, gothic imagery of White’s beloved blues with an explosive sonic sensibility recalling Led Zeppelin and the Yardbirds. A singer with marvelous authority and range, he sometimes delivers lines with a Robert Plant-ish wail or a sweet, falsetto burst.

Rather than the anger and angst of so much recycled rock recently, “Seven Nation Army” is a tale of mystery, reminiscent of the bluesmen who warned about demons and dangers that no one else could see or feel: “Don’t want to hear about it / Every single one’s got a story to tell / Everyone knows about it / from the queen of England to the hounds of hell.”

Even without lyrics, the song would be a knockout because it is built around a marvelously seductive groove -- the intersection of screeching, twisting guitar licks and steady, simple drum beats. Though the Stripes’ current tour was interrupted for several weeks after Jack White broke his left index finger in a car accident, his playing didn’t appear to be bothered by the injury on Monday night.

After opening sets by the Soledad Brothers, an inviting, bluesy rock trio from Detroit, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, an arty-punk trio from New York featuring lead singer Karen O’s teasingly studied mannerisms, the Stripes opened with a 20-minute torrent of energy. They moved through such forceful numbers as “The Hardest Button to Button” and “Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground” so fast you wondered when the duo (or the audience) would have a chance to come up for air.

It was a masterful display of rock ‘n’ roll self-affirmation, which led nicely into the Stripes’ other emotional side -- the gentle, disarming vulnerability in such tunes as “In the Cold, Cold Night” (sung by Meg in a style as simple and unadorned as her drumming) and “We’re Going to Be Friends,” which is blessed with a melody as innocent and sweet as the best of Brian Wilson or Paul McCartney.

Whether playing bottleneck guitar soulful enough for a Mississippi juke joint or rock ‘n’ roll guitar striking enough for the hottest bar in town, Jack White seems to be still searching for his own musical destiny. No one knows quite where this journey will lead, but every indication continues to be that the journey itself is going to be glorious.