ON A DETROIT WINTER evening, years ago, Jack White punched a guy in the face. Really hard. And not just once, if you believe the police report. It was the culmination of a feud between two garage-rock dudes, back in 2003, when feuds and garage rock and dudes were still a thing. White has been known to hold a grudge; to send, from time to time, an intemperate e-mail; to, on occasion, “storm offstage,” as online headlines would have it.
And he’s not sorry, not at all. Yeah, he threw a punch or three. “Sure, but so did Johnny Cash,” White says, leaning forward on an olive-colored upholstered armchair in his windowless, tin-ceilinged wonderland of an office, deep within the Nashville headquarters of his Third Man Records. Sitting on a…