The White Stripes - Icky Thump

Alright, alright, the fan(s) must be appeased. I did hesitate to review the new album because me reviewing a White Stripes album is kind of like a fat guy reviewing a buffet. He's fat, what do you think he's gonna say? But then again, he might have some keen insight after years of buffet perusal that the next guy's a few belt holes short of. Either way, he's gonna wanna talk about it. So I guess I'll spill my guts. Odiously intertwined metaphors, or coincidental phrase turning? You decide.

Now, one might think that after essentially taking a break from the Stripes to pursue more radio-friendly (even if the radio doesn't think so) tunes with The Raconteurs, Jack would be more inclined to simply regurgitating past Stripe glory with an overly poppy jaunt in step with White Blood Cells (see: Pitchfork), or possibly a more back to basics overly grunge rock affair. But if you've been eating at this place as long as I have, you'd know there's more on the menu. Jack made it quite clear that The Raconteurs and The White Stripes are separate entities, and the existence of one is inconsequential to the existence of the other. While it's too early yet to judge the fate of the former, the latter seems to be alive and well. The Stripes keep on keepin' on with Icky Thump, who'da thunk?

Icky Thump
Well, it just wouldn't be a candycaneboy review if I didn't pun my way into it, now would it? And it wouldn't be a White Stripes album if Jack didn't rip it up on the first track. Since the second album, without exception, there's been some sort of new concept or sound introduced right at the start. Whether it be a perfect pop song, self-accompaniment, a bass line, amped up production value, or keyboady guitars (vice-versa?) not equalled since Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! burst onto the scene. Well, of course you're gonna burst onto the scene with an exclamation point at the end of your name. But that's beside the point.
You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do As You're Told)
Now this, this is not new. The berating of women (woman, perhaps?) hasn't been so sexy since Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine and probably won't be again, unless Sean Connery has anything to say about it. Some familiar power chords and wa-ay up the neck soloing, but spiced up with some more of that organ-y guitar-y melange -- certainly in the running for best track.
300 M.P.H. Torrential Outpour Blues
Some critics might say that being a two piece limits the musical possibilities. And some other people might e-mail those critics something like...

Rob-

The most exciting thing about the White Stripes to me has always been their progression; the fact that they've never really looked back. To refer to their duo as having "limited options" has got to be one of the most absurd things you can say about the stripes. Since their first record they've been almost exponentially increasing their musical options, whether it be for good (Conquest) or for evil (Little Acorns). I've always felt that Jack being completely unchallenged in the group, if anything, gives him a much bigger palette to draw from. And after listening to the compromised sound of Broken Boy Soldiers I don't really understand how anyone could disagree.

...you know, hypothetically. And that critic might still insist that Icky is a look back in a lot of ways, especially when contrasted with Get Behind Me Satan, and that I can not argue with. But more than a look back, I think it is finally an embracement of their evolution as a band.
Conquest
It also wouldn't be a White Stripes album without the mandatory oddball cover song. Well, this one ranks right up there with Jolene and Death Letter. Usually, I'm pretty unimpressed with cover songs, but Jack just has this uncanny ability to make songs his own. He doesn't just say "us women don't have a chance". He means it.
Bone Broke
This track certainly lends credence to the aforementioned regurgitation theory, fitting right in with tracks from their debut like Broken Bricks or Screwdriver. But I think it lends a lot more credence to my whole evolution thing. Admit it, some people still look like monkeys. You know I'm right.
Prickly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn
As if to say "nuh-uh! We are so not rehashing past success!", the most familiar track is sandwiched between the two tracks that I don't think any of us saw coming. First donning a sombrero and a little machismo to tango with the trumpeting Conquest, and if you thought that was weird...bagpipes? If this track is rooted somewhere in reality, it must be on an Irish pirate ship. Wait, I said reality, right? Nevermind. Anyway, if you're not chanting along then you're probably the type that thinks bagpipes can't rock out...
St. Andrew (This Battles Is In the Air)
...WRONG!
Little Cream Soda
Oh, dig that growl stomp riffing. This album (and track) has some of the meanest licks Jack's ever laid down in a studio. And I don't wanna say the old school blues-rant verses are unfamiliar territory, but it is most certainly underexplored.
Rag and Bone
Finally Jack has opened the door a little wider to tracks like Hand Springs and Party of Special Things To Do and really gotten in touch with his inner blues rocker. Those have always been two of my favorite B sides, and it's pretty clearly the kind of music Jack can really groove on.
Slowly Turning Into You
Just when you think you're getting all comfortable again, the organ's back to do battle with that unrelenting Harmony Rocket for the rights to Jack's silvertone. Can't everybody win?
A Martyr For My Love For You
Okay, good. I was starting to think he'd actually shaken all the scared little boy out of his songs, but I guess he was just too scared to peek his way into the tumultuous first half of the album.
Catch Hell Blues
Much like Ball & Biscuit, this track doesn't waste much time with pleasantries like accessible lyrics. That's not to say there's no sense to be made out of them, but if I was in Jack's head, I'd be a much better musician. And the slide guitar is never a waste of time.
Effect & Cause
Sorry Connery, Jack upped the bar again. Pencil this one in with other porch-stompingly good closers like Your Southern Can Is Mine and I'm Lonely (But I Ain't That Lonely Yet).

Okay, now it may seem like I'm just gushing, but I like to think that I have objectively good taste in music. And sure it gets tricky for anybody to be unbiased when discussing their favorite band, or favorite anything else for that matter. But there is a reason that bias exists. And it's because I truly believe the Stripes are that good. They've set a new standard for all guitar bearing garage heroes out there, and they have never failed to push the standard a little further with every step forward. If it weren't for Jack White, I doubt I would have ever taken up the guitar. And to make a man as lazy as I am take up a time consuming hobby...well now that's saying something. Get behind me, Icky Thump, I'm ready for the next one.

I will however admit I am too biased to come up with a reasonably sound album rating.

Red Sails - Self-Titled EP

Pardon the break from styles (all of you imaginary readers), this was a review I've been shopping around to different e-zines and they always have length constrictions. So rather than re-doing it for flow's sake, it's staying as is. Deal with it, nobody.

Red Sails - Self-Titled EP (Tom Tierney - vocals/guitar/accordion, Patrick Southern - Bass, Nate Smith - Drums)
1. Empty Jelly Jars
2. Dogs of Cedar Hill
3. In Time
4. Rats on the T
5. Boulders

Red Sails is a band composed of three twenty-something Brooklyn-or others focused on making a name for themselves. This first offering is a versatile preamble to an LP that could as easily be a pop gem heart throb, in the ranks of Voxtrot or Belle and Sebastian, as it could be an unabashed hick rock affair a la Son Volt or Uncle Tupelo...or Wilco for that matter. There's such an inherent wisdom to the workings of pop music right from the start on "Empty Jelly Jars". The melodic verses, the crashing pre-choruses, the belt-it-out choruses, and for the record, "waltzing constellation" has got to be at least top five prettiest phrases ever. Even on the blues tracks, there's total cohesion and flow when it's just so easy to get lost in riffing and sliding and all those other guitar tricks that are mostly interesting to the guitarist and no one else.

Let's say an album is like a movie. To elaborate, an EP is like a movie trailer. A good movie trailer should be exciting, compact, easy to swallow. A movie trailer should NOT reveal the best jokes or the coolest explosions in a movie. It should entice you into the plot line and get you interested in the characters. It's so easy for a band to lock into a genre or even a specific sound on an EP. For a band who has yet to establish a sound, it's downright silly to try and establish one on an EP. If you do, you're not likely to replicate or improve upon it on your first venture into LP land. And disappointment is, call me crazy, not a term you want associated with your debut. It's also incredibly easy to just be totally weird and unapproachable, because I mean, it's an EP right? But this grouping of five tracks could scarcely do more to convince me in the merit of the band, and the future possibilities.

Wilco - Sky Blue Sky

The only real form of consistency in Wilco since the release of A.M. back in '95 has been that Jeff Tweedy is the centerpiece. He's always been the clear voice of Wilco, both literally and figuratively. The only real exception being Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, firstly because it didn't really have a clear voice, but also because Jay Bennett had a hefty hand in the honeypot. If you've seen the documentary of the making of YHF it's pretty clear that the album was the explosive finale of Jay Bennett's Wilco tenure. By far their most diverse work, clearly frustrations ran a bit higher than usual. Maybe it was adjusting to their new home with Nonesuch Records, and their artistic liberation, but most likely it was because Jay Bennett's a douche. Whatever the case, the evident lack of Bennett showed through on the follow-up A Ghost is Born where mathematical experimentation gave way to a sloppier hit or miss patchworking. All this despite the fact that pop culture chose this moment to start paying attention to Wilco. I guess that's Good News (For People Who Love Bad News).

So with the departure of their Beloved Enemy, and now brought to you for the first time ever in cooperation with Volkswagen, we have a clean and sober Jeff Tweedy. What does this mean for Wilco? A rejuvenated, ready-to-rock Wilco? Maybe a less inspired back-to-basics rock record? Well surely it can't be that bad Either Way.

Either Way
My guess is Tweedy wrestled with the decision to start with this track or the equally tepid sentiment of Please Be Patient With Me. But either way (sometimes I just need to use that phrase), the effectual message is the same. This is a new, more earnest Wilco. Um...yay? No, that's not the word I'm looking for.
You Are My Face
Some nice harmonies, lovely lyrics as usual. Tweedy's songwriting ability has certainly never been called into question for me. And there is a bit of hope on this track. They employ a similar trick as the one they used on At Least That's What You Said with the sudden burst of electric guitar, but unlike the former, this track quickly reverts back. A double trick perhaps? I do see that the next track is called Impossible Germany. Maybe it'll be a fun non-sense rocker like I'm a Wheel or Hoodoo Voodoo?
Impossible Germany
Damn. Nonesuch luck. Tweedy claims to "know you're not listening", which seems to be the general motif of the album. If the fact that Wilco was going in a new direction with their music was just a fact and not the defensive positioning built in to the structure of the album, I'd probably be more okay with it.
Sky Blue Sky
Here we have the album's namesake batting clean-up. I've previously made my feelings on these types of tracks known, and when you combine that with the album's soft-hearted propensity, you get about the track you'd expect.
Side With the Seeds
This track supports my back-to-basics theory as well as making it blatantly obvious that there is very little conviction to any of the lyrics. "I'll side with you/If you side with me"? Come on Jeff, stop whining. Shake It Off!

The next track is, as implied by my always delicious puns, entitled Shake It Off. It is one of the better tracks on the album, but it's also a good place to call it quits on my established reviewing style. There's really just not a whole lot to say about any single track, and continuing on like this will only lead to me bashing the album more than I really had in mind. The reality is that it isn't an album deserving of abusive reproach. I just expect more from the band. All in all, it's an affable summertime listen. Nothing more, nothing less.

My overall album rating: 6.4