Audio By Carbonatix
Have you listened to the White Stripes’ Elephant through headphones yet? I just did, and I can’t believe how sloppy some of it is: that raggedy-ass piano intro to “Little Acorns,” Jack’s guitar chug-a-lug in “Black Math,” the killer electric-piano blurts in the otherwise Queen-precise “There’s No Home for You Here,” pretty much all of Meg’s drumming. Not having been raised in the ’60s, this type of thing usually turns me off; it’s why I haven’t listened to Nirvana’s Bleach in probably five years. But it’s different with the Stripes–pointed but natural, effortless yet packed with meaning. I think it’s down to the friction between that instrumental dishevelment and the exactitude the band proffers elsewhere, in its outfits, in its stage show, in the devastating specifics Jack peppers his writing with. It’s why, though he creeps me out to the absolute max, I can’t wait to hear more of Jack’s songs and more of Meg’s inept timekeeping that’s not bad on purpose but bad because I really doubt she can do any better. Or should.
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