The White Stripes - 'Elephant' (XL)
5/5
By: Toby L
'Long-awaited' would be the wrong term. Perhaps 'final confirmation of the Whites' dynamic, flawless supremacy' is more apt.
For it has hardly been a far distance for the 'Stripes between this - LP # 4 - and their breakthrough predecessor, 'White Blood Cells'. None of that 'difficult' or 'oh, but I really can't think of another 'Hotel Yorba'-esque whining accompanying the release. Instead, promo-copies simply bear a plain, red background, the band's moniker, and the new album title. That's it. Oh, and there's the music too, of course.
King and queen of the understated then, with 'Elephant', Jack and Meg have created their quintessential record - a release so fuelled with fervent belief and the best moments from before, which altogether contribute to a challenging, realised fullness. There's guitar wizardry mess - axe-yielding so scratchy, raw and classic you may experience a hallucination of Hendrix' ghost before your weeping eyes - and vocals from the pair that serve to further cement their intrinsically unique standing-point (Meg cropping up for a rare instance amidst the timeless crawl of 'Cold, Cold Night').
Although a part of a natural, unforced progression, where it differs from past efforts is basically that every moment of the duo's bizarre eccentricity has now been explored to its furthest depth - where the most commercial track on the work, and - fittingly - first single to be lifted from the record, 'Seven Nation Army', is a fuzz-driven 'I Think I Smell A Rat', with an added tinge of sweat and sex, whereas 'Ball and Biscuit' is trad. r'n'r rustiness, and the likes of 'Black Math', 'Little Acorns' or 'Hardest Button To Button' are classic turbo-charged slabs of 60's garage-rock... Only in the 2K's. But the time-zone matters little - the fact is that they remain at all, and in as mesmerising a format.
Such is the grandiose sensation of enriching assurance, they almost hit the essential gospel-rock crossover within the gigantic organ-led extravagance of 'There's No Home For You Here' - a contrast to the lo-fi intimacy of 'You've Got Her In Your Pocket' - whilst the drooping introspection and self-pity of Bacharach's 'I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself' explodes mid-way into a riotous blast of kick-drum/guitar-intoxication, commanding enough to light the enchantment of heavy-metallers and blues-purists alike... And that's just what this record serves to prove over and over: an artistic sensibility and daringness that still manages to lock itself with a distinctive and disciplined inclination towards the earliest of electric-guitar styles, whilst never seeming the most feared of regresses - retro.
Whilst hardly undertaking a grand departure from the formula that has always served them best, where The White Stripes continue to persevere as a two-piece is via their continued versatility on a sound that you can only truly emblazon theirs. As long as the associated compositions remain on a par as such a collection as this - with an equal number of welcome, subtle surprises along the way - then it's difficult to see them falling from their present stature as one of alt-music's most appealing and fearlessly original, modern-day forces.
Artists in this article: The White Stripes
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