Jack White, front man of the White Stripes, obviously does not exist in the same time period as the rest of us. My guess is that his brain is off somewhere in the Mississippi Delta during the 1930s, tapping his feet to the hollers of some old blues great such as Son House or Blind Willie Mctell. That or he’s back in the 1970s, sitting in the garage trying to play along with the latest Led Zeppelin album.
I came to this conclusion after listening to the White Stripes’ latest album, “Elephant.” It sounds like a time capsule. This is partly because the equipment used to record it could have been used by a thinner Elvis Presley (the liner notes proudly proclaim that no computers were used at any point during the album’s creation). This is also because any song on the album could have been written circa 1965.
While the band seems blissfully stuck in the past, that doesn’t stop it from growing musically. The Stripes’ sound is about as full and direct as a two-piece combo can be. Meg White’s drumming is still so simplistic that sometimes it barely seems to rise above children banging on pots, but she does it with an urgency that drives the music. Combined with Jack White’s crunching guitar riffs, her drumming makes this one powerhouse of a band.
This power begins on the first note of “Elephant” and really comes full out on the later tracks. The song “Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine” crunches like the best of the classic riff rockers, all laid over Jack White wailing as if he were a Southern Baptist preacher. The man sounds like he should be handling snakes and screaming about Jesus. “Hypnotize” is this album’s closest thing to 2001’s “Fell in Love With a Girl,” the catchy-as-hell hit that broke the band into the mainstream. The track comes off more like a Benzedrine-soaked garage rock version of “Secret Agent Man” than as an obvious pop hit, but the same feeling is there.
Even the quieter tracks have an edge to them. Meg takes a vocal turn on the haunting “In the Cold, Cold Night,” and the song has the feel of something from a late night jazz club. The closing song, “Well it’s True That We Love One Another,” is a funny vocal interplay between Jack, Meg and guest vocalist Holly Golightly. It’s a good cool down after the intensity of the previous tracks.
The high point of the album is also the album’s sole cover track: The Burt Bacharach and Hal David composition “I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself.” The Stripes infuse it with a new energy, turning one of the best pop ballads of the late 1960s into powerful, soul-filled rock ‘n’ roll. Another probable classic is “There’s No Home for You Here,” in which Jack White’s voice is turned into a choir during the chorus, showing what that old 8-track recording equipment is capable of producing.
It’s always tricky comparing a new album to the great ones of the past. This year’s classic could easily become next year’s bargain bin special, but it’s safe to say “Elephant” will be around awhile.
Regardless of how future generations view the album, though, this would be a wise music selection to pick up now. There are so few people making great rock ‘n’ roll these days that it’s important to remember what it sounds like.
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