They say that all the great home run hitters in baseball history; Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth, the Negro League's Josh Gibson; all had one thing in common: the powerful sound they made when they made contact with the ball. A shared, mighty wallop. A deafening CRACK.Likewise, when Jack White slams a power chord at the same time that fake-sister Meg pounds her drumkit there is a signature sound produced. It's the sound that cuts jagged holes through 'The Big Three Killed My Baby' and propelled the hurtling boogie of 'Let's Build a Home' off their self-titled debut. It's the sound that drove 2001's White Blood Cells to heavy rotation and made the follow up, 2003's Elephant the best rock album in the last 20 (30? 40?) years. And, notably, it's the sound missing from 2005's Get Behind Me Satan. Or if it's there at all, it's in watered down, weary form. Jack White's songwriting chops were still on display, but there was a dreariness that enveloped the album and made it less than satisfying.
That sound, that blast, that drive, that CRACK is here again on Icky Thump.
Back from a side project, The Racontuers, that produced one of last year's best albums, Jack White is a man reborn. Jack the howling, imprecise guitar god is back, assaulting the southern end of the fretboard with naked ferocity. The sounds he strangles out of his instrument are as raw and violent as any the Stripes have ever put on record, and capture the wild charisma of their live shows. 'Icky Thump', 'You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do What You're Told)', and the fire and brimstone 'Catch Hell Blues' are arena-ready and huge.
But, as always, the band tempers its post-punk blues attack with songs alternatingly delicate and grandiose. They are the most 'cinematic' band around, from the fresh-from-the-moors hymn 'Prickly Thorn But Sweetly Worn' to the horn-fueled freakout 'Conquest'. If Quentin Tarantino ever gets around to making that Kill Bill Volume 3 he's always hinting at, 'Conquest' will be the song blaring through the opening credits.
'Prickly Thorn' is a wonder, both a tribute to and deconstruction of centuries of melancholy folk ditties. Beautifully understated bagpipes (it's easy to forget that they can produce tones this solemnly lovely since we're only used to hearing them played during cop's funerals in movies) accompany a high, ghostly vocal from Jack: "One sound can hold back a thousand hands/when the pipe blows a tune forlorn/and the thistle is a prickly flowerAye/but how it is sweetly worn."
But it's a moment in 'Martyr for My Love For You' that proves just how far the Stripes have come as artists; the song mirrors the passioned frustration of its narrator as he lusts after a schoolgirl, the halting tune of the verses giving way to grand electric fuzz in the bridge. As Jack sings "You'll probably call me a fool and say I'm doing exactly what a coward would do/and I'm beginning to like you, it's a shame what a lame way to live, but what can I do?/I hope you appreciate what I do..." the music builds in anticipation but washes out gently, the sound of a tired man coming regretfully to his senses, and Jack finishes the line "...I'm a martyr for my love for you."
By the third spin you realize that Icky Thump isn't merely a return to form, but the best album that Jack and Meg have made yet.
The White Stripes; Icky Thump: A+
Stop reading this blog and download this song immediately:
"Rag and Bone". Everything you ever loved about The Stripes mashed into one irresistible beat. Jack barks, Meg teases and the sun shines a little brighter on a pile of junk. "If it's just things that you don't want, I can use 'emMeg can use 'em.We can do something with 'em.We'll make something out of 'em. Make some money out of 'em, at least."
Matthew Guerrero
