This is how it's been every couple of days for the past month or so:  I'm lying in bed, drifting into consciousness in the morning, when my alarm clock radio goes off.  Some morning crew banter about who's playing where, who's got a CD out, easy to tune out, thanks to 94.9's willingness to hire personalities that speak in normal voices.  Maybe they play some Bad Religion, but that's relatively familiar.  Or that Raconteurs song that's almost like I'm still sleeping.  Cut to a commercial, also easy to tune out.

Then that drumming starts, and I know I'm fucked.  thump, thump, thump, thump...  After three weeks, I know what's coming, and I've sometimes learned to turn off the alarm.  But sometimes I don't, even with the drum warning, and two verses of warmup.  After being filtered through whatever eldritch equipment Jack White picked up at Abu Ghraib's garage sale, downsampled to radio quality bandwidth, then blared out the single tinny speaker of my alarm clock, the guitar solo of Icky Thump doesn't have a sound as much as it evokes the physical sensation of hot grease poured directly into the ear canal.  Oh, now I'm awake all right, but I'm not about to get up.  Instead, I'm going to pull all of my covers over my head, curl up into a ball, and pray for Mean Mister White to stop squeezing my brain

The very first time I heard this song, I wondered if there was something wrong with my clock.  The next few times were only when I was half-awake in the morning, and I started to wonder I'd actually been listening to the radio, or possibly half-remembered a strange waking dream.  It was only when I finally heard the song while driving home in the afternoon, fully awake, that I had to come to terms with the fact that what I was hearing was the same as what everyone else hearing.  So no, Jack and Meg White.  I can respect your desire to expand your musical range, but I will pass on paying you more money to hear music that I am sure kills a few more of my brain cells every time I am exposed to it.

(is 3fingerspointback)

I've seen the White Stripes live about 6 times,  starting way back in 1999 before they were totally famous.  My first impression of them is my impression of them today:  

1-- Jack White is a fucking awesome guitar player. The man can shred.

2-- Jack White's guitar riffs are pretty much recycled Led Zep and Hendrix riffs, with some slide solos thrown in.

3-- Meg White is a beautiful woman, but the she can not play drums very well.  

4-- The lack of a bass player is interesting for about 2 songs, then it sounds skeletal and incomplete.

5-- Pretty much every album and every song sounds the same to me.

So, I don't really hate the White Stripes,  and I don't even wish them ill---if you can make it in this business, than good for you.   I don't begrudge Mr. White his offstage antics, from the creepy incest implications (and idiotic denials) to his sucker punching of the kid from the Von Bondies.  But the White Stripes mastery of the pentatonic scale and the I-IV-V progression are no more impressive to me than Kirk Hammet's, or Yngwie's.    It just strikes me as boring.  

Before Icky Thump, I only heard one or two White Stripe songs, and wouldn't be able to tell you what they were.

My daughter asked me to listen to Icky Thump, and I did just last week.  I really enjoyed it.

It took me a while to get to listen to it (itunes upgrade, I am sure everyone will understand). I love it. I think it might be my favourite yet although it's very close with Get Behind Me, Satan. I honestly hadn't noticed anything particularly unfriendly in the Icky Thump solo, 3fingerspointback, but although I would love it if you gave the rest of the album a chance, the guitar does reach that pitch, and stick on it, in more than one other song. All the same, there is enough light and shade, and enough variation of tone, for me to think you might find something.

"Conquest" is horrible - the first time I heard it I thought the White Stripes had finally put a song on an album that I would always have to skip. Funny songs should be funny and the humour here is just leaden. Apparently it's a cover, maybe it's a gift to Jack's wife, who knows? Compare with "Effect and Cause", a much defter jokey song in a Lovin'-Spoonful-try-Buck-Owens way, which is one of their best album closers (they tend to go for whimsical enders which don't always hold up as well as the rest of the songs). I wouldn't quite agree on St Andrew - it's not musically boring, and it's short so it doesn't outstay its welcome. If you can tolerate the Black Angel's Death Song or Lady Godiva's Operation, this is the milky bar song in comparison.

I particularly enjoy the run of tracks 8, 9 and 10 but as usual, this whole album is just way more impressive than anything else in the field - even the less catchy numbers have a spark and a detectable, unusual mind behind them, which is why there is a point to listening to them even if you already own all of history's best blues, rock and Americana combined. The White Stripes are at home and having fun in this idiom and no-one else is even sure what to call it.