CD Odyssey Disc 1799: The White Stripes

What I review is randomly selected, which means an album can get reviewed right after I buy it, or many years later. This next album has been kicking around for a long time, but the dice gods finally selected it.

Disc 1799 is…Self-Titled

Artist: The White Stripes

Year of Release: 2002

What’s up with the Cover? “Red and white is our thing”. In 1999 we didn’t know how far they’d ride that aesthetic. Turns out, pretty much the whole way.

How I Came To Know It: I’d like to brag that I was with the White Stripes from the beginning, but the truth is I discovered them along with most other people when they released their third album, “Elephant” in 2003. I immediately dug backward and made up for lost time, finding this record in the process.

How It Stacks Up: I have six White Stripes albums, which is all of them. Of those six I had reserved fifth spot for their eponymous debut, but I liked it too much for that, so I’m bumping Icky Thump out of fourth. This is my last White Stripes review, so as is tradition here on the Odyssey, here’s the full recap:

1. De Stijl: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 753)
2. Elephant: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 251)
3. White Blood Cells: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 126)
4. Self-Titled: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
5. Icky Thump: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1499)
6. Get Behind Me Satan: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 577)

 Ratings: 4 stars

Jack White didn’t save rock and roll, but he did throw a bucket of water on it while it was sleeping, poured three shots of bourbon down its throat, and told it in no uncertain terms, “enough of this resting on your laurels - we’re hitting the bars.” 1999’s eponymous debut of his (and Meg White’s) band the White Stripes is where it all began.

While many artists of this era were trying to make production decisions to make things sound louder, the White Stripes redefined what loud could be. Jack White’s guitar, now universally lauded and emulated (but never duplicated), is a revelation. He doesn’t play the guitar he attacks it like Charles Bukowski attacks a poem – raw and violently, like it’s a heavyweight fight of the bare knuckles variety.

At its core, this record is, like a lot of rock music, a blues album. White even provides a Rosetta Stone to translate for the newly initiated with two blues covers, Robert Johnson’s “Stop Breaking Down” and “St. James Infirmary Blues”. Both turn the crunch and gravel up to 11, supercharging these age-old tunes and making you hear them again for the first time. I have four different versions of “Stop Breaking Down” and with apologies to Lucinda Williams, the Rolling Stones and Mr. Johnson himself, the White Stripes do it best.

“Stop Breaking Down” is the second of a trio of songs (along with “Jimmy the Exploder” and “The Big Three Killed My Baby”) that open the record. That three song attack (for you will feel attacked) is so ferocious it almost killed me as well.

That’s what you can expect in large degree for the whole record. Screeching, yawling guitars chugging forward with a primal but deliberate fury. There are White Stripes albums that I like more (see list above) but I’m not sure there are any that match the visceral oomph of the debut. It feels like Jack has spent his whole life vibrating with the need to shout his truth and then someone put a guitar in his hand and said, “speak with this.”

Most of the songs are White Stripes originals, but in addition to the blues covers they take a turn at Bob Dylan, with a cover of “One More Cup of Coffee”. I can’t say this is better than the original (having Emmylou Harris on backing vocals gives Dylan the unfair advantage) but it is damn good.

I have a bass player friend who hates the White Stripes (they have no bass player, so the hatred is easily traced), but with apologies to bass players everywhere, you don’t miss it here. Jack has it all covered and anything he misses Meg is there to pick up on the drums.

In addition to blues influences, the White Stripes bring punk rock sensibilities to the music, getting on a song, thrashing it out of their system, and moving on, most often in under three minutes. Ordinarily I have a rule that no record should have more than 14 songs. The White Stripes have 17, but the album still clocks in at a restrained 44 minutes, so I mostly forgive the transgression.

I play the album while I’m reviewing it, and when I first started writing this review I found it hard to concentrate. At first I wondered if it might have been the previous night’s rum and cokes, or maybe a lack of coffee, but it was that the record kept demanding my immediate and total attention. I had to turn it down just to get a thought in edgewise.

That’s OK if you need to write something, but generally the White Stripes should be played loud. Let it sink into your guts and bones where it belongs.

Best tracks: Jimmy the Exploder, Stop Breaking Down, The Big Three Killed My Baby, Wasting My Time, Astro, Screwdriver, One More Cup of Coffee, I Fought Piranhas