(Third Man)
Following the superb No Name, White continues his fan service with stripped back songs and nasty, anarchic riffs – though it all ends up feeling a little samey

It’s a strange thing to say about one of the most prolific artists of his – or any – generation, but: Jack White has been undergoing something of a career renaissance of late. After firmly establishing himself as one of the most beloved and defining figures of 21st-century rock with his early-00s blues duo the White Stripes, White seemed to get bigger and bigger over the next decade-plus, releasing albums with well-liked side projects the Raconteurs and the Dead Weather, dropping a couple of fine solo albums, and helping spark the music industry’s vinyl revival with his label and pressing plant Third Man Records.

But, at some point in the mid-2010s – around the release of his third solo album, 2018’s Boarding House Reach, let’s say – White’s influence and celebrity seemed to be outweighing his actual output, with rising pop stars like Billie Eilish and Olivia Rodrigo naming him a prime influence. Record plants the world over became backed-up, thanks to pop stars releasing dozens of gimmicky vinyl variants of their own albums, resulting in months-long delays for indie artists – hardly a problem White was responsible for (and likely one he himself was annoyed by), but certainly the result of a craze he had helped spark. At the same time, all the quirks and codes of White’s output – the specific colour schemes and sometimes arcane guiding opinions – threatened to overwhelm the immediacy and sharpness that had once been the core of White’s actual music.

Newport Street Gallery, London
White may be a talented musician but as a visual artist, he’s a nonstarter. Not even the collaborations with Ai Weiwei and Damien Hirst can save this show

Nobody can phone it in like a famous conceptual artist. Invited to customise one of rock star Jack White’s amplifiers, Ai Weiwei has inscribed the F-word in buttons of various sizes and colours across its front. It’s a cynical, contemptuous gesture, but also a marvellously louche one, reminding you of the dangerous, nihilistic yet creative spirit that this exhibition of White’s art totally lacks.

White was huge in the 00s as one half of duo the White Stripes, with Meg White, and his solo career is still going strong. Clearly the art world wants to be his friend. This show is on at Damien Hirst’s Newport Street Gallery and its luxurious hardback catalogue includes an interview with him by the uber-curator Hans Ulrich Obrist. Hirst has also customised an amp with – guess what? – a model of a rotting cow’s head. In addition, he has collaborated with White on works featuring other hackneyed Hirst tropes: an eternally floating ping-pong ball and a spin painting.

The festival might feel more corporate than ever but enthusiasm remained sky high with Bieber fever, a Demon Hunters surprise and a pop takeover

Even in the best of times, Coachella can be a heavy lift – long drive, perhaps longer lines and, if you do it right, extremely long days of careening between live music sets under the intense desert sun. Every year, North America’s largest music festival generates a round of buzz and scorn in near equal measure for good reason – the sky-high prices, the deluge of cringey social media boasts, the overwhelming vibes of influencer culture. Yet the faithful keep returning (and the agnostics keep tuning in online), forking over a minimum of $649 for a three-day pass or securing a brand deal to witness what continues to be the most expansive and comprehensive music slate in the country, a genuinely exciting mix of up-and-comers gunning for a breakout set and you-had-to-be there moments such as, say, the return of Justin Bieber …

While Bieberchella dominated much of the conversation on the ground this year – his low-key but sufficient Saturday headliner set drew perhaps the biggest crowd in festival history – Coachella 2026 offered plenty of range for those not interested in the comeback of the millennial icon. Coachella may be the one thing in America currently safe from actual inflation – there was no rise in ticket prices this year, though I have to imagine that, like last year, over half of attenders are on payment plans. But the inflation mindset prevails. Following its so-called flop era two years ago, when underwhelming headliner billing led to the slowest ticket sales in over a decade, the festival has returned to conversation-dominating form with a more is more approach: more international artists catering to more potential attenders; more infrastructure (a new underground movie theater, the Bunker, was tailor-made for Radiohead’s Kid A Mnesia audiovisual experience); more investment in an impressive livestream operation, as the festival continues its shift from in-person experience to global event/brand; more surprise DJ bookings – the xx’s Romy! John Summit! – that overflowed the EDM-heavy Do LaB.