The White Stripes Get Behind Me Satan 3.5 stars V2 -------
Detroit's favorite garage band, The White Stripes, have crafted another fascinating record with Get Behind Me Satan, their 5th overall. But don't take that as too much of a compliment. While a number of songs situate themselves well alongside the Stripes' best material, others don't quite work. The fascination comes from how irritating a listen this record can be. It treads uncomfortably close to the line dividing good from great, and because of its insistence in not crossing into the latter, it falls further into the former.
Admirably, Satan does not try to simply recreate Elephant, the duo's 2003 landmark. That album's emphasis on shit-hot guitars has taken a backseat on the new record. Other elements, namely piano, tambourine and country-tinged acoustic guitars, are pushed to the forefront, but the most glaring change on the record is Jack White's sudden interest in marimbas. The quiet instrument, used most notably on "The Nurse," is indicative of the album's stripped-down vibe, and serves as a welcome addition to White's arsenal.
The quieter songs, in fact, seem to work most effectively. "Little Ghost," a bouncy, bluegrass-tinged song, sits nicely alongside "Forever For Her," a calmer rock song. Both tracks, interestingly enough, are strikingly similar to the sound of 2001's White Blood Cells, what "true" Stripes fans consider their best record. This makes it all the more surprising that Satan has been getting lukewarm reactions on the internet.
But when White decides to give in to his MC5, cock-rock influences, the results are often poor. Tracks like "Instinct Blues," "Red Rain" and "Blue Orchid" seem contrived, as though White is throwing the record company a few bones rather than fully giving into his muse.
It's this inconsistency on Satan that makes the record a frustrating listen. The good tracks certainly outweigh the bad, but the resulting juxtaposition between the sounds White feels confident in and those he feels detached from reveal the album's transitional nature.
