In an era when arena shows and flashy rock `n' roll in general are back in vogue, the Stripes made the refreshing decision to downsize venues (from the Roy Wilkins Auditorium in 2003) and keep their music the one and only spectacle. ... Opening with the feisty "Black Math," frontman Jack White, 29, came out in a gunfighter hat, pointy mustache and tight black pants, looking like a cross between old Michael Jackson and recent Bob Dylan. He seldom spoke to the crowd, but his enthusiasm flashed throughout the show with kid-like smiles. All the while, his ex-wife Meg White -- whom he still calls his sister -- egged him on by mouthing the lyrics behind her drum kit. There was hardly a second without music. Jack often reached for a new guitar before a song had ended.

So I wrote/gushed in the Aug. 27, 2005, edition of the Star Tribune, which will now go down as the last time the White Stripes performed in Minneapolis. As is rippling across the rock blogosphere right now, Jack and Meg White have officially called an end to their beloved duo. There were no artistic differences, they say, nor any health issues that did them in (Meg's struggles with acute anxiety initially sidelined them in 2007). Instead, they're claiming they simply wanted to "preserve what is beautiful and special about the band."

"Both Meg and Jack hope this decision isn't met with sorrow by their fans but that it is seen as a positive move done out of respect for the art and music that the band has created," their statement read. "It is also done with the utmost respect to those fans who've shared in those creations, with their feelings considered greatly."

Pretty classy stuff. The announcement hardly comes as a shock, though, especially after four years of nonactivity. Jack did tell me in a 2006 interview, "I've got a lot of songs for the White Stripes record," and he kept alluding to making a new album up until last year. Playing in a band with your ex-wife (and only your ex-wife!) must be a tricky thing, especially once you've both remarried. Meg followed Jack by a few years in going back to the altar to marry Patti Smith's son Jackson Smith in 2009. The fact that the ceremony took place outside Jack's historic mansion in Nashville was one of many ways they seemed intend on putting a smiley face on being a divorced couple.

Even if the marriage baggage truly wasn't an issue, it also must've felt weird coming back from such a long hiatus to the Stripes, a duo that seemed so scrappy, so youthful, so cute, so playful, so ... pimply. They were just babes when they started out, coming here on tour to the 400 Bar. Their First Ave show in 2002 -- when they covered Dylan's "Love Sick" but didn't play their then-big hit "Fell in Love With a Girl" -- will probably go down as one of my all-time favorites at the club, though it wasn't my absolute favorite time seeing the Stripes. I also caught them at the Coachella fest in 2003, not just because it followed the release of their most classic record ("Elephant"), but because it preceded a reunion set by their hometown heroes the Stooges. You could tell it was one of the most exciting gigs of their lives.

After that, I wrote something about the Stripes being rock's most exciting and important band of the '00s. Whether or not that held true (I'd say it did), the duo could at least now go down as perhaps the most quintessential band of the '00s, since it ended with the decade and was so influential to other young musicmakers that emerged in the past 10 years. Jack has been to town a few times since the Stripes went on hiatus, first with the Raconteurs and then with the Dead Weather. In both cases, his musical collaborators were far more proficient and versatile players than Meg, who sometimes sounded like she was thinking about a cupcake recipe instead of keeping time. For whatever reason, though, neither band came close.