Iliad by Homer - Double Ajax Summary Book 4

Book 4 – Menelaus – I won that duel fair and square. I should be on my ship headed home with Helen, my beautiful, if not “well-traveled”, wife by my side, enjoying a cocktail and high fiving my boys. But no, the gods intervened. This time that tricky vixen Aphrodite. Where does she get off? Hold on, don’t ask. So anyway, Zeus was going to back me and let me have the victory as is, but that was not enough for his crazy wife Hera. She wanted Troy destroyed completely. So she convinces him to restart the war, which he does by asking his overachieving daughter Athena to do. Athena achieves this by convincing some young randy archer on the Trojan side to fire an arrow at me!!! The kid was a wonderful arrowsman and would have drilled me but Athena quickly flew over and deflected the arrow so that it hit me in my armor in the “hip region” penetrating the skin just enough to cause pain, blood and a reason to get back to the fighting. These gods sometimes have plans that doesn’t always seem airtight at conception but that’s how they played it. Despite me calling for calm, war breaks out and heads start to roll. They banned Ulysses, Catcher in the Rye and even Huck Finn for a while, but this book with its “he hit Leucus…gouging his groin as the man hauled off a corpse…Enraged at his friends death, Odysseus sprang in fury…plowed through the front…hurled his spear…speared him straight through one temple and out the other punched the sharp bronze point and the dark [this mean blood] cam swirling thick across his eyes.” Seems more like snuff porn to me. I had to go read me some Lolita to clear my head after that one!

Iliad by Homer - Double Ajax Summary Book 3

Book 3 – Helen – So Agamemnon and his Greeks show up to confront the Trojan army. My new “husband” Paris, the one that Aphrodite gifted me to after he chose her over Athena and Hera during the drunken wedding bet, starts strutting around in front of his Trojan buddies talking about how many Greeks he’s gonna beat up, etc, but then my old, or “real” husband, Menelaus shows up and says: “Hey pal! Why don’t we settle this once and for all! You started this whole thing when you took my wife (me) at that wedding! If I win, the Greeks win and you pay us a huge ransom and if I lose, you guys win the war. By the way it’s a fight to the death!” Mind you, I happen to know that my old husband Menelaus is a much bigger and braver dude that Paris and, well, Paris knows this too. So Paris decides to wimp out and make a run for it. His big brother Hector catches him, calls him out for being a pansy and pushes him back into the one-on-one mortal combat with Menelaus which everyone knows he can’t win. They bring me out to watch because, why not, I have a vested interest in the outcome here since I’m sorta the trophy. They battle some, then Menelaus overcomes Paris and starts dragging him around by the helmet, but then Aphrodite (her again!!) intervenes, frees Paris just before he’s about to bite it and drops him back in his palace. Menelaus is pissed because he feels like he’s just won the war for everyone based on the deal he made with Paris (he did, but the gods intervened) and where the heck is Paris? He’s with me. I yell at him, taunt him a bit about wimping out in front of my old husband. Then we make love. It’s a Trojan thing, you wouldn’t understand.

Iliad by Homer - Double Ajax Summary Book 2

Book 2 – Zeus – So my big idea after Achilles' mom convinced me to rally the Trojans to make Achilles' comeback all that more sweet (I know, seems like a long shot, but it pissed off Hera, which was kinda my plan all along), was to insert a dream in Agamemnon’s head about how he should invade the Trojans. He decides to spin that the next morning into telling his troops that they can go home now and they don’t really have to fight. This was intended to make them show their resolve and bravery and say no sir we’d really like to fight. Welp, that plan backfired as they all shouted for joy and ran to their ships. Only after my resident tricky badass Odysseys ran down to the ships and started inspiring them to fight instead, mostly by calling them stuff like fools, deserters and rank cowards. It worked.

Iliad by Homer - Double Ajax Summary Book 1

Iliad – Book Summary as recounted by the main characters in the action

Backstory – Hector – For me this whole story is a tragedy, because none of it would have happened if not for those meddling gods or if Paris had any brains whatsoever.  It all begins with Zeus hosting a party for Achilles parents in which he intentionally did not invite Eris (goddess of strife and discord, I smell Hera at work here). Eris shows up anyway and tosses in an apple with an inscription that says: For The Fairest. Needless to say, the goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite each lay claim to the apple. Zeus is asked to mediate. Not wanting to make a choice that will get him in even more trouble than he normally is in with his family, Zeus punts the decision to the Trojan mortal Paris. Competition ensues. Hera offers Paris all of Asia if he chooses her. Athena offers wisdom and prowess in battle. Aphrodite promises the most beautiful woman in the world. They all get naked and pose in a garden for Renaissance painters.  Now here’s where it gets stupid. In this “judgement” there really is only once choice. Hera. Saying the boss’ wife is the fairest at a party is like complementing her earrings. Just say: it’s you Hera, and you can keep Asia. Everyone would have chuckled, Zeus and his wife would have been pleased and the other gals would have just accused you of being a suck up. But no, Paris gets talked into thinking with his @#$% by Aphrodite (not the first guy in history to do that in her presence) and chooses her, thus getting a shot at the most beautiful woman in the world. When he got back, I had a hard few questions for him. If Helen was the most beautiful, doesn’t that make her the de facto winner of the fairest contest to? How old is Achilles? If we’ve been fighting for 9 years since that party, is my main rival, the guy who will ultimately kill me in this story a 9 year old? On the Helen thing, can she cook?

Book 1 – Achilles – Look, everyone knows Agamemnon was asking for it when he took as his booty the favorite daughter of one of Apollo’s priests. Once Apollo found out about Chrysies’ abduction he dropped arrow bombs all over our Greek behinds. I had no idea what was happening but I know this soothsayer who ended up telling me that Apollo was behind the plagues so I confronted Agamemnon who told me to stick it and we got in a bit of a scrap when resulted in him returning Chrysies and thus quieting Apollo but then he decided to take my pretty abductee Briseis in her stead. I then flew into a rage, called him a few names (was “dog-face” excessive?), then started crying, then went and found my mom, who by the way is owed a few favors by Zeus, who convinces Zeus to punish the Greeks (my own army by the way) for this action. Zeus agrees, but ends up getting in a snit with his wife Hera, who doesn’t want to help the Trojans because of Paris didn’t choose her at the wedding. Their relationship is complicated to say the least. I decide to withhold my legendary battle skills and await a bat signal moment because that would make me feel much better.

The Peacocks (featuring Jack White) at Roseland 5/22/12

As I sat eating the pickles off my pulled pork sandwich at the Double Windsor, I could sense the excitement of anticipation I haven’t felt music-wise in a long time. Well, maybe the Radiohead show at Roseland a few months ago was on a similar level. I had Jack’s entire catalog up on a mix on my phone so the subway ride in (F to the B) was filled with Ball & Biscuit, Black Math, Freedom at 21, Hustle and Cuss, Difference Between Us. Earlier in the day, my musical prep also included learning and recording Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground, after watching Jack give a lesson on youtube to Jimmy Page and Edge. My B train lifted me straight on to Broadway and 52^nd where I saw the massive block long ROSELAND sign and the 4 block long line of folks waiting to get in. A courteous email (and phone call!) from ticketmaster earlier in the day had informed me that the doors would be opening an hour earlier than printed on the ticket, presumably to accommodate the simulcast on SiriusXMU that night. I confirmed with the bouncer – a massive well-mannered hulk who was politely fielding all kinds of inquiries on how to get in without a ticket (I’m sorry, ma’am) – that the Shakes would be going on at 8 or 8:30. Adam had warned me that there would be leagues of wonderful women at the show, but from the look of the line it was 5:1 hairy men to girls. The ladies that were there looked more ready for an Ani Difranco concert. But then I realized that hot chicks don’t show up early for anything, not even Jack White. Billy appeared as promised at the stroke of 7. Doors were opening at Roseland behind us, but we decided to get our game faces on with a few pints of Smithwicks and a burger  at a nearby Irish bar.

At 7:45 we arrived at Roseland with the line entirely gone and crowd safely ensconced in the legendary dance hall. We strolled in, got an over 21 wrist band and walked into the crowd. Wow, the bars were full but manageable and the floor was only half full. At the same point in the September Radiohead show there were folks hanging from the rafters, no room on the floor at all and 25 deep in the bars. I felt like the organizers decided not to oversell the place which made for a good feel. I said “nice shirt” to the guy with the Hendrix shirt, “love the shirt” to the girl with the Grateful Dead shirt and “great band” to the guy with the Black Keys shirt. At 8:15, Britney Howard and the Alabama Shakes walked on. The roadies had inserted their gear in a small circle that was surrounded by Jack’s band’s equipment. It was the cramped opener setup that the Stones used to do to their opening acts: when you are done, we want to change some plugs and pull off some tarps and get to rocking. It made for a very comfortable intimate setting for the Shakes as all they played within a few feet of each other. Britney came out howling from the first note. The band was tight and right behind her through her dramatic starts and stops, thrusts and pokes and screams. She grooved forced the crowd to feel her ample hips. She even dropped some soaring guitar solos to add to the magic.

I waded in to the bar and moved up next to an exotic looking woman in a large sun hat, leather jacket and white pants. She wasn’t making a move to signal the bartender and I asked if I could assist. She said she was thinking about asking for a double vodka but wasn’t sure about how to go about it. I shouted to the bartender for two Heinekens and a double vodka and turned to her:  “Have you ever heard of Bianca Jagger?” She said, yes. “Well, you are a dead ringer for Bianca Jagger in her prime.” She smiled a smile as big as a bright crescent moon and said “Thank you so much, I’ll take that as a compliment. A big one.” I told her that’s what it was. We looked at each other for a few moments and smiled. She took a sip of her $8.50 double vodka and then floated into the heavens.

By that time, Bill’s and my roost on the floor about 20 people back had been overwhelmed by extremely tall men with hats and elephant ears. Roseland is a terrible place to see a show if you are short. These guys were at least 6 inches taller than me and I’m 5’10”ish. You could turn around and look at the faces to see who could actually see the stage. If their eyes reflected light from the stage, they could see. If their eyes were in shadows, they could see nothing. There were many eyes in the shadows. Throughout the night I would talk to the girls next to me, who averaged 5’0” it seemed: Can you see? No. Nothing at all. But it sounds great! Do you want to sit on my shoulders? Yes, please!  We shifted over to stand behind the girls, because, uhh, we could see better. And it just smelled better.

The roadies all wore black suits, black shirts, blue ties and black hats. It looked like 10 Elvis Costellos plugging in guitars and moving stuff around.  Jack strode in just after 9:30pm. Radio time. Girl band. The Peacocks. All glad in Victorian formal dresses. Flowing when they moved. I couldn’t have been more excited. The timing of the band was staggering. He walked from backstage, around the pedal steel station, directly to the front mic and without pausing to slow down and wave, screamed “SHE’S GOT STICKERS IN HER LOCKER!”  The drums and bass exploded at that instant. This wasn’t your father’s girl band. The sound was bigger than huge. Confident, strident, soaring. But the drums. Holy crap. John Bonham, Keith Moon and the goddesses of love and hope had combined to form Carla Azar’s energy and sound. Bare feet. Traditional left handed grip.  Pure force. The bass player – pregnant (“playing for two” Jack would later admit) – was getting some hairy fuzz tone out of a stand up bass. A stunning redheaded keyboard player swayed and worked her organ. From the back a blond Danish pedal steel guitar player delivered the melodic lines, really taking the pressure off of Jack to be more free on the stage. There was a violin back there, too? She danced as much as she played and it rocked. After Saltines, the crimson keyboardist played the circular riff that signaled Missing Pieces. Jack went over to her mic and speed sang his rhymes inches from her face. They were already gelling.

It was 10 years since I had seen the White Stripes at the Bowery Ballroom. Back then a slightly chubbier (in tight red and white garb) Jack ripped it up with his Meg in an intimate venue. Like today, he was in total control then. You could see he was gravitating to his right often to shout into the mic in the drum set because that’s what he’d do with Meg. But Carla was syncopating in ways Meg could only dream of. In the Stripes, Jack was the guitar player, bass player, rhythm, lead and backing sound. Now he had a strong band that delivered his bass lines, melody and counter melody from a pedal steel guitar, violin and piano. It freed him up to sing and punch riffs and solos wherever he wanted.

Dead Leaves came next. Totally new sound. Larger and wider. Not better but different. A new voice appeared in the form of a lovely backup singer Ruby Amanfu who seemed totally unfazed when Jack would sidle over to scream in her mic as she was singing. Love Interruption was next and a perfect song to play with this band. Everyone harmonizing vocals around Jack’s beat up acoustic guitar. Ruby starred in this one taking center stage with Jack. Yeah, I won’t let love disrupt corrupt or interrupt me. (higher) I won’t let love disrupt corrupt or interrupt me. (lower) I won’t let love disrupt corrupt or interrupt me. Any more. (whispered).

“What do you want me to play??? I’ll play anything you want!” Jack smiled. The crowd heaved, the drummer went click click click click and Hotel Yorba came flying out. Place went wild. It seemed that everyone knew every word. I been thinking of a little place down by the lake they got a dirty little road leading up to the house I wonder how long it’ll take. This is where I missed Meg. This was the only song she really sang on for the Stripes that I recall and it seemed that something sweet and innocent was gone.

A few songs later, Jack pulled out an acoustic version of the Raconteurs’ Top Yourself. I don’t know if he had a different type of influence when he wrote those Raconteurs songs but they are really structured superbly well. More nuanced and advanced than the straight ahead Stripes stuff. Top Yourself first electrified the crowd as it seems that many of the younger folks were too young for the Stripes. Is that possible? But then they settled into his Memphis-type retelling of the tune and that was quite alright for all comers.

Back to the piano for Hypocritical Kiss. Playing back to back with the red wonder in a number that seems as a counterpart or sequel to Missing Pieces. Watching his hands I decided to learn piano so I could play stuff like that. That idea was quickly squashed as Jack then launched into the heavy heavy heavy Blue Blood Blues dead weather riff. Maybe I’ll stick with the guitar and just play stuff like this. Yeah. Crack a bone!!! Crack a bone!!! Crack a bone!! The bass and guitar were a squadron of B-17 bombers over Ploesti. Boom boom crack crack crack crack. Singing Sunday Service!!

Another fun sing-along moment when the team played the Stripes I Think We Are Gonna Be Friends and then went into the Jack/Danger Mouse masterpiece Two Against One. The mirror is a trigger and your mouth's a gun. At this point you really felt you were a part of something.

I like Freedom at 21. He’s been playing it on the TV circuit so every knows it. A derivation of the Seven Nation Army lick and the rapidfire lyrics with a message that makes the girls feel great and the boys feel played. Also gives Jack the opportunity to rip high speed guitar licks on his custom tinkered tele.

Carolina Drama appears. I loved this one from my first listen. A great story song from the Raconteurs that twists and turns with blood and milk all over the floor. I’m not sure if there is a point to the story but I’m glad he decided to tell it again.

The set ends with bluesy Ball & Biscuit. Some guy asks his buddy behind me if this is a Dead Weather song. “No! It’s the fucking Stripes!!!” He screams. Straight up hard blues. Let’s have a ball, girl and take our sweet time about it.

During the encore break, I was marveling at the hundreds of mostly Italian names on the plaque in the hallway – IN HONOR OF THE MARRIED COUPLES WHO MET HERE – ROSELAND DANCE CITY. Mr. & Mrs. Sal Lo Piccolo 1973. Mr. & Mrs. Michael J Lovullo 1947. Wow. The keyboard player for the Alabama Shakes appeared and read it with me and I congratulated him on the success of the group. He humbly admitted it was a blast since he had only joined a year ago. “Europe was great but we’ve only had one day off and we are all completely fried.” He also let slip that although the Shakes had been playing together for 4 years, it had only become real recently. As in the bass player had just quit his veterinarian job in December.

A loud rumbling noise emerged from the side of the auditorium where Jack appeared on a sidestage mid crowd with his boy band Los Buzzardos. New band, new sound, new angle, special treat. Black Math: Punk guitar riffs and machine gun drums. VIPs who were sitting on that side stage watching the front stage were running around wild. Holding up iPhones and sticking them in Jack’s face as he screamed. It was like American Bandstand where the band plays amid the fans. Now the place went nuts. Everyone missed the girls but these guys could bring it too. They started to Cut Like a Buffalo and the boy bass player strutted his stuff. The crowd was heaving and humping hard to this one. Apex of the show. Jump jump jump we all went. Is that you chokin? Or are you just jokin? The slippery slide guitar appeared for an extended Catch Hell Blues. Roseland Ballroom is transformed into a Mississippi juke joint. We are sweating, moving, banging our heads, raising our arms. Try and catch me!

Jack finishes up and smiles at the crowd. Somehow spontaneously the crowd starts to hum/sing the intro to Seven Nation Army. He smiles bigger. We hum/sing louder. He delivers and now we are stomping. I’m gonna fight em off!  After a burning tour de force he’s gone.

Back out on Broadway, Billy and I hail a cab. Where we going now? I’m not done, says Bill. Me neither. We head back to Brooklyn for beers and a plate of fried chicken and collared greens. I just didn’t want to stop feeling and tasting.