The Roseland Ballroom isn’t an ideal place to see a show, ’cause it’s huge and if you’re little you tend to not be able to see the action. Especially if somehow, even though you thought there’d be all these hipster sorts at the White Stripes, you find yourself right smack bang behind a group of beefy thirtysomething Long Islanders in need of a surprise visit from the Queer Eyes. Still, my god, but sometimes a show rocks so hard you just need to stand around with a goofy grin and a wrinkled nose, nodding your head in time to the beat pounding through your body.

It was good when Jack White said, in a silly voice: “Hallo, New York! Hallo, New York!” It was good when Meg White got out from behind the drums to sing “In the Cold, Cold, Night.” It was definitely good when they did the lights so that the backdrop was filled with these massive Jack White and Meg White silhouettes. And then the night took a winning turn when all-of-a-suddenly a space opened up in the crowd, we shuffled over, and it was clear viewing from there on out. That Jack White sure knows his way around a guitar. And Meg White makes me want to get behind a drum kit again.

Yeah. Sometimes what yous needs is a good, rockin rock show.