The White Stripes - 'Icky Thump' (XL) Released 18/06/07

It must be a huge struggle being The White Stripes. Not the endless critical acclaim or multi-million selling albums or the marriage to a model, they probably enjoy that. Instead, the balance between staying true to the principle of recording an album within a couple of weeks with simple equipment and dealing with the need to experiment and continuously develop the band. 'Icky Thump' sounds brave, experimental, passionate, political but it’s also risky, bloated in parts and the Detroit garage sound that remains their building block has never been so under threat. The question is; how will the Stripes emerge out of this?

Opening and title track 'Icky Thump' with its 70s stomp a romp guitar and some fucked-up synth certainly goes out to stamp a message of intent for the album from the start. The playful guitar solo belies some of the most overtly political lyrics the Stripes have produced. "Well, Americans/What, nothin' better to do?/Why don't you kick yourself out?/You're an immigrant too" – no need to over analyse the message there. To be honest, it’s a disappointment compared to 'Hotel Yorba' or 'Blue Orchid'. It’s fussy prog-Stripes and the arrangement ends up sounding messy rather than a new and exciting direction. Despite the stark political message it just doesn’t quite make the musical statement we’re all used to for the opening of a Stripes album.

Next up, is the unexpected Lyrnd Sknyrd 'Southern Belle' guitar intro and hook to 'You Don’t Know What Love Is (You Just Do As You’re Told)' – and then the Jack starts singing and you really do wonder if he’s moved down to Alabama. If you’re a fan of that then fine but this has none of the humour, bite or edginess associated with the Whites’ best output. One of the weakest tracks on the album – it’s just a lazy by-the-book 70s pastiche. Luckily there’s an almighty jump forward for '300 mph Torrential Outpour Blues'. Rather than fretting over expanding the repertoire, Jack just concentrates on delivering a bubbling, chilled-out lament interrupted by shocking, controlled squawks on his guitar. It also serves as an intro to the blown-out, well-publicised use of the Mariachi trumpet in 'Conquest'. This late 1950s tribute to sexual prowess becomes the soundtrack to a Tarantino or Rodriguez film as the hyperactive Jack screeches around the furious trumpet/guitar duel fighting through the whole song. It could, maybe should, be awful but the self-knowing humour of it all ensures this will become the cult track off the album.

As if 'Conquest' served an immediate need for Jack to surprise us, the Stripes are happy to return to more familiar territory with 'Bone Broke'. It is the obvious nod to their garage roots on the album which is not surprising since it has been sitting around since 1998. Roughly produced, this raw, uncompromising 3 minutes with the razor sharp riff shoves the listener back to a period when Jack and Meg were two wide-eyed entrants from some unfashionable American city called Detroit. One of the best tracks off the album, you wonder why it’s remained hidden for nearly 10 years.

Hopefully the triumph of the last two tracks will overshadow what we’re about to be put through. Will the Stripes ever perform 'Prickly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn' live? A combination of bagpipes and 'Battle Of Evermore'-lite guitar, it sounds like the Stripes gate-crashed the Orkney Folk Festival and demanded the chance to have a knees-up. Sadly it’s just a horrible, horrible mistake – bagpipes belong to a drunken rendition of Flowers of Scotland, not a White Stripes album. Unfortunately the lesson wasn’t learnt because we’re subjected to the same on 'St Andrew, (This Battle Is In The Air)'. This features Meg singing some mush about going to "Where the angels/Don’t forget me". Wasn’t aware they held the golf town in such affection. It’s marginally better but that still makes it not up to the usual standard. It’s with relief that 'Little Cream Soda' starts up with its QOTSA guitar riff kicks in and we can get back into the business of reverb-heavy garage without any Celtic distractions.