The White Stripes "Elephant" [2003]

See what happens when the wrong people get encouraged? They just come back and do the same things all over again. In The White Stripes' case, they took their obvious, uber-amateur garage rock redux sound from "Der Stijl" and "White Blood Cells," turned up the volume, increased the nasal singing tone and cheap effects, kept many of the same actual chord progressions (like Jack White thinks he's Chuck Berry or something), and coughed up "Elephant" on all our asses. Appropriate title, however -- this album is big, smelly and shiftless. Meg White adding her own pedestrian lead vocal passes (and who the fuck is Holly Golightly? was she never sued by Truman Capote's estate?) does nothing to improve upon Jack's obnoxious/pathetic bleat, which is equal parts woefully insecure lame-ass and parts shameless rock star, albeit of the "douchebag in the full-length mirror" variety. All you have to know about how terrible the music scene was back in '03 you can find listening to this album, which was greatly revered despite its lack of new ideas (their old ideas weren't new, anyway) and Jack's preponderance to sing verse lines like they're tumbling down a flight of stairs. In short, there would be no "classic rock" today if 70s FM radio had been as inexpertly conjured as The White Stripes barely manage here. I suppose it might be argued that digging up and reassembling the bones of Badfinger and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion has its place in finally putting a tired genre to bed, but I doubt it -- especially if people keep applauding The White Stripes for their "efforts."