The White Stripes loved playing “Jolene” and every time they did, it was great.

I thought, weirdly, when I heard yesterday about Dolly Parton’s passing at 80 years old (1946-2026), the first thing that hit me was: 

“Wow, to think back at all those White Stripes covers of what is probably her most famous song, “Jolene,” … and I wonder what Jack is thinking?”

Well, it didn’t take long for him to express how he felt on his Instagram feed. “Instant Sainthood” was his simple expression. Later, he paid tribute to her at a concert in London, making the sign of the cross at the end and pointing up to the sky. 

But what makes these performances of Dolly’s “Jolene” by The White Stripes so extraordinary isn’t Jack White alone.

It’s Jack and Meg White. Because at one point, Jack White said that “Jolene” wasn’t something he’d ever do again. He said in an interview with The Tennessean back in 2014 that “Something like covering ‘Jolene’ was very me and Meg, which I wouldn’t bother touching again. It shows itself.” 

OK, first, intro.

Blackpool.

Jack gets your attention, of course. He really does seem to be coming apart in front of you. His voice is strained and cracking; his guitar moves between delicacy and violence, and by the end, he appears almost overwhelmed by the song, kind of screaming its chorus: “Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. I’m beggin’ of you, please don’t take my man. Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene. Please don’t take him just because you can…”

But watch Meg.

Just f**king watch her.

She barely moves. That contrast is the whole performance.

Jack is all instability. Meg is absolute certainty. He stretches the song, hesitates, accelerates, leaves spaces where you don’t expect them, and suddenly attacks the guitar. Yet she always seems to know where he’s going. There are moments when it feels as though the song might collapse… and then Meg hits the drum, and somehow everything is exactly where it should be.

People used to say she wasn’t a good drummer. I really dislike those people.

Nova Scotia.

OK, perhaps a more technically demonstrative drummer would ruin this. “Jolene” doesn’t need fills and flourishes. As Dolly wrote it, it needs inevitability! Meg plays as though there is only one possible beat for the song, and she has found it.

That simplicity makes Jack sound even more extreme.

The further he travels emotionally, the less she seems to move. He is pleading; she is stating a fact. He is falling apart; she is counting time. He is trying to escape the song; she keeps bringing him back into it.

Jack embodies the desperation of the lyric, but Meg supplies something that isn’t explicitly in the words: fate. Whatever Jack does – however much he begs, screams, whispers, or attacks the guitar – the song keeps moving towards its conclusion. (“You could have your choice of men. But I could never love again. He’s the only one for me, Jolene”)

Glastonbury.

There is something almost cruel about it.

And because The White Stripes were only two young people, there is nowhere for either of them to hide. No bass player smoothing things out. No second guitarist filling the gaps. No keyboard creating atmosphere. 

Just Jack with Meg and an enormous amount of space.

That space is what makes their chemistry so visible.

Together, live, they always turned “Jolene” from a Dolly Parton cover into something much stranger: a demonstration of what The White Stripes actually were.

Always the shy one, Meg unfortunately had acute anxiety issues in the future, which led to the collapse of The White Stripes, and bless wherever she is now.

With Dolly Parton’s recent passing, this song (the rights and royalties left to Miley Cyrus in her will!) means so much more to me, and I hope it does to many other White Stripes fans, too.

RIP Dolly Parton – although you were 80, you are still gone too soon. And this song is just one of yours that only proves it more.

Chris Garrod, August 26, 2026