Thursday, April 10, 2003
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

Listening Station

The White Stripes

Elephant

Since the great garage rock hype of 2001, none of the handful or so internationally lauded bands has proven its worth beyond its most recent collection of songs. Despite how fun bands like The Hives and the D4 been to watch, rock out to or revel in while alt.rock radio still spews nu-metal sludge, few of these bands have the ambition, range or songwriting chops to elevate themselves above a movement that differs very little from the grunge surge of the early '90s--especially since both trends were more reprieves from mainstream hard rock and less forward progressions of rock music.

The White Stripes are one of the exceptions. White Blood Cells, the 2001 album that made singer/guitarist/songwriter Jack White and his drummer partner Meg White rock heroes, deftly fused multiple music genres both old and new while championing a tonal versatility that made each track distinct from the others. Elephant can claim the same achievements, though this time around, the band shows evidence of growth. From the ever-morphing song structures and vocal deliveries, to the increased playfulness found lyrically and stylistically, the album feels immediately more dynamic, engaging--not to mention tunefully consistent--than its predecessors.

That said, Elephant is no reinvention. Some songs hearken back to White Blood Cells, evidenced in the punk blasts of "Black Math," the Led Zeppelin homage of "There's No Home for You Here" and the south-of-the-border romanticism of the album's sole cover, Burt Bacharach and Hal David's "I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself."

However, those numbers showcase a band asserting its identity within the scope of its influences and its experimentations. Other tracks see the band traveling new ground, including "Little Acorns," which samples an old Mort Crim spoken-word recording before transgressing into a seductive number that recalls both the New York Dolls and Nirvana. "I Want to Be the Boy..." could be the sweetest ballad in the duo's canon. And, "The Hardest Button to Button" irresistibly careens like a motorcycle on the Sunset Strip (propelled by none other than a bass guitar, an instrument barred from the White Blood Cells sessions).

There are additional noteworthy moments, some revealing themselves with repeated listens. Listening to Elephant, one wonders how such a minimalist rock act could incorporate so many elements and atmospheres without losing focus or overwhelming its two members. There's obviously something very instinctive at work within the White Stripes, and it's that intuition that separates them from the other pluralized beneficiaries of hype. Elephant might not earn those multiplatinum sales plaques that wind up in a Hard Rock Café somewhere, but it's not commerce the Stripes seem to feel so passionately about. As long as that sense of priority endures, so will rock 'n' roll.--Mike Prevatt

Death by Stereo

Into the Valley of Death

Epitaph may not be a major label, but goddamn if it doesn't do an uncanny impersonation, what with it signing every emo/pop punk/screamo/hardcore act with a handful of hooks and half a heart. It's the same pandering to the lowest common denominator the label's bigger brethren do, 'cept it's got that blessed patina of punk cred. What's up with that bullshit? That said, there are still a few worthy contenders on Epitaph's bloated roster. One of 'em is Death by Stereo.

Marrying East Coast "hawdkaw" aggression, farm-grown SoCal buzzsaw hooks and more than a dash of metal, Death by Stereo sounds like an updated clone of Youth Brigade, the original something-for-everyone punk band. But it's the updates that count here. DBS has cranked it up across the board; thus Into the Valley of Death has a neapolitan effect that kicks your ass in three flavors. Opening track "The Plague" is a prime example, going from hair-flinging intro to pit-friendly hardcore stomp to the chorus, a hooky upswing that showcases lead singer's Efrem Schulz's unusual voice. He can scream 'n' spew like any typical punk madman, but when he sings, he rules. It's not that Schulz is a great singer; in fact, the appeal lies in how his voice is almost comically unsuited to singing; while tuneful, big and booming, it lacks that certain hyper-masculine Cro-Mag edge that's stock-in-trade with the punk set--and that's one of the most refreshing things about DBS. He drives songs like "Beyond the Blinders" and "I Wouldn't Piss in Your Ear If Your Brain Was on Fire" past the watermark, leading some of the hookiest, more original hardcore breakdowns to come along in a while. Amid the gold there's plenty of gravel--catchy but forgettable mosh-by-numbers tunes such as "Let Down and Alone" and "These Are a Few of My Favorite Things"--and the lyrics are nothing more sophisticated than the notebook scribblings of some mallpunk waiting for Sunglass Hut to open. But a spin or two of Valley might convince punk aficionados there are worse fates than Death by Stereo.--Andrew Kiraly