The White Stripes
Elephant
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It’s a few bits past midnight and I’m walking around Time Square. I am too naïve and apolitical to effectively reproach the grandiose towering monsters of stifling neon capitalism- it’s actually the hookers that usually depress me (for different reasons). Tonight, though I’ve got a grin that could only be removed with paint thinner. I’m wearing a smile that’s a bow tie on a farmer’s son’s prom night tux with future wife Tammy. Music is an escape, a drug, a high without lows as long as you can hum or whistle. I’ve got the new White Stripes album on my Discman and it kicks ass like I seriously can’t believe. Since most of my favorite bands have broken up, this makes me feel happy as a fish uncaught. I mean wouldn’t it be fun to swim with such fluidity?

But I digress. Elephant sounds like the spawn of Led Zeppelin IV, the Stooges Funhouse and the Beatles White Album- at least the best songs do. The rest of the tracks are equally impressive and ultimately the album is impenetrable, indefinable and brilliant.

The first single “Seven Nation Army” begins this refreshingly efficient opus with a hypnotic bass line and resonant kick-drum. Soon it is accompanied by a universe of searing guitars and after many listens it results as one of the most interesting singles in months. It sets a tone with its ‘complexity disguised as simplicity’ approach. Also does it reflect the most notable quality of the band- the ability to blend rawness and precision into a prodigious Frankenstein of rock, punk and rhythm and blues.

This feeds into “Black Math” which is sweltering and fast paced; a brutal Page-esque guitar stomp with sneering vocals and solos sounding like a more abrasive Chuck Berry had he been involved in the punk movement.

“Black Math” becomes “There’s No Home For You Here” which is as captivating as an alien. I mean you would have sworn you’ve heard this before somewhere, but deep down you know it’s something respectful to tradition but still fresh and innovative. I mean, mind blowing. The chorus is harmonizing mirroring The Beach Boys or maybe with its fractious, blazing accompanying guitar lick it’s a more gripping and chaotic reminder of Queen.

Another standout on the album is “Ball And Biscuit,” a seven minute sexual advance that relies on the power of a bone chilling Howlin Wolf-like blues riff offset by inventive screaming solos with the two combining to mark just how traditional but still seminal Jack White’s guitar playing is. “You’ve Got Her In Your Pocket” is a tender acoustic ballad with an insightful lyrical commentary on modern love. In plainer terms, if you’re constantly being broken, White’s sarcasm regarding the contemporary impossibility of a man controlling a woman is damn good medicine. “I want to keep you in my pocket/where there’s no way out now/put it in a safe and lock it/cause its home sweet home.”

In fact lyrically, the work’s theme mostly outlines male emotional susceptibility with an emphasis on sexual frustration, insecurity, alienation and a rather stylish sort of gall stemming from these suddenly integral character flaws (could art exist without loneliness and rejection?).

“I Want To Be The Boy To Warm Your Mother’s Heart” starts as a Beatles sounding tripped out pop song with piano and climaxes with a stinging bottleneck guitar that sounds like Ry Cooder in the Stones’ “Memo From Turner.” The Stripes cover Burt Bacharach’s “I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself” and turn it into a polished grunge attack with distorted, wailing guitars recalling Nirvana. This is the cleanest garage I’ve ever been in.

Elephant combines a number of elements and tricks from all sorts of different influences and ends up a sweeping production of preciseness and coarseness, tradition and formidable musical audacity. It’s easy to state that this work borrows but in conceding to its undeniable quality it is even easier to state that the work is groundbreaking. Turn it up so my ears bleed admiration. Life just got better.

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