White Stripes

Get Behind Me Satan

It would appear that Jack White is attempting to set his mind on divine things rather than on human things these days. The latest studio album from the tri-coloured Detroit duo is an unsure affair. While there is no doubt that the band has managed to achieve some kind of cultural impact, at least on the indie-rock scene, this album would not offer the best evidence for this. Whilst it would be ridiculous to dismiss this album as poor (which it is not), there is hardly a track, with a few exceptions, which can hold a candle to their best work on their first three albums (Elephant purposely excluded).

Having said this, there seems to be something nagging within the tracks of 'Get Behind Me, Satan', something which suggest it is greater than the sum of it's parts. There is a sense that the message Jack White is attempting to convey, but fails to do so fully. Perhaps the expression of divinity is a bit to hard to fit into one 45-minute LP, but there is definitely something missing. Perhaps it's sex. This is an album with a large amount of sexless relationships, preferring to focus on more complex things like trust (The Nurse). Even tracks like 'Instinct Blues', which should normally be dripping with sexual energy, becomes a banal study of dominance and superiority.

The album was reportedly recorded in just a couple of weeks, and most of the songs were not even completed when they entered the studio. What emerges, however, is not greatness borne of spontaneity, but rather a "White Stripes" album on which the songwriting suffers badly. There are only two or perhaps three tracks which sound even remotely inspired. The first is 'Take, Take, Take' which is a commentary on reactions to celebrity, which strikes a chord not only because we can actually hear the 'voice' of the songwriter, but also because you can finally feel the mix of subtlety and occasional emotional vitriol which feels lacking in the rest of the album. Unlike most of the other tracks, it also allows itself time to develop from passive voyeurism into almost violent delusion (it is one of the longer tracks on the album). Even so, if you happen to put on De Stijl immediately afterwards, the gulf in class becomes apparent. The desperate and urgent blues energy that emanated from their music is no longer as abundant. Tracks like 'My Doorbell' and 'Blue Orchid' are passable and fun, but add no extras depth, which is so desperately needed.

What has to be noted, however, is that this album is anything but formulaic. At least there are attempts to explore new avenues of style and structure in tracks like 'The Nurse' and 'Red Rain', which sound like concerted efforts to refine the oft-neglected surrealism in their music, which they toyed more comfortably, though more superficially, with earlier tracks like 'Jimmy the Exploder' or 'Aluminium'. The ideas that seem to permeate the newer tracks do hint at a sophistication which was not present before. Indeed, there are enough ideas here to fill three albums, they are simply not fleshed out as fully as they could be. This makes the experience of listening to 'Get Behind Me, Satan' a frustrating one, rather than a euphoric one. Whilst Jack often refers to the band's followers as 'Candy Cane Children', one can not help but reverse the roles and end up feeling like an dominating parent sitting on the sidelines of a school sporting event, muttering 'Oh come on, you can do better than that'. Ironic really, as from an emotional perspective, this is their most mature work yet.

Daniel Westerlund

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