He may have sung “it ain’t nothing new babe”, but even Johnny Cash knows that innovation is not what matters when it comes to rock’n’roll. What counts is noise, passion and believing in the tired old beast. The key is not to leap forward but to look back and keep pushing on because the past is all you have to work with.

No band since Nirvana has understood this concept as well as the White Stripes, but where Nirvana took their inspiration from the likes of the Sex Pistols, Jack and Meg White look to the blues. That is not to say that they are copyists, as anyone who has heard their last two albums, De Stijl and White Blood Cells, will agree. The White Stripes are not averse to modernity — there are echoes of Led Zeppelin and the Pixies on Elephant. The booming chords of the lead single, Seven Nation Army, even bring to mind those Eighties noise merchants Big Black, albeit slowed down and given a melody to batter.

What sets the Stripes apart, and it is a quality that also allies them to Nirvana, is their compassion. Jack and Meg (ex-husband and wife or brother and sister, who cares, apart from their parents?) are not only masters of the simple, gargantuan riff, they can move you, too.

Meg’s vocal contribution on Cold, Cold Night conjures up images of an adolescent Eartha Kitt, while Jack’s fragile performance on the heartrending You’ve Got Her in Your Pocket is a almost too lovely. And for a lascivious guitar wig-out there is always Ball and Biscuit, a song that makes Prince sound like Charlotte Church. The White Stripes really are without peers — no one else is making music this vibrant or essential.

Let’s rock!

(XL Recordings)

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