The White Stripes
– Get Behind Me Satan
Jack White was never comfortable repeating himself, and Get Behind Me Satan is his big swing at reinvention by subtraction. Out went the fuzzed-out, garage-rock crunch of Elephant. In came marimbas, pianos, mandolins, and a warped kind of vaudeville blues. This wasn’t a step forward—it was a lunge sideways. Stripped of power chords, the record leans hard into mood and character, sounding less like a rock album and more like an old radio drama where something sinister hums just beneath the static.
Best of…
It’s a record obsessed with identity, masks, and the price of fame. Jack plays the trickster, the preacher, the recluse, and the scorned lover—sometimes all in the same song. Meg’s drums are sparse but effective, like punctuation marks that hit harder because of what isn’t there. The songs themselves range from barroom freakouts to ghostly lullabies, all stitched together by an unease that never really lifts. It’s as if Jack wanted to push against every expectation people had for the band after their mainstream breakthrough—and he mostly does, with a crooked grin and a marimba mallet.
Some fans didn’t know what to make of it. Others found a record that refused to settle down, a record that dared to get weird on its own terms. There’s beauty here, but it comes with splinters. It’s an album that demands you sit with it in the dark for a while before the shapes start to make sense.
Choice Tracks
Blue Orchid
The only real fuzz-rock banger here, and it snarls with menace. Jack’s guitar tone sounds like it’s clawing its way out of the amp, and Meg rides it with primal force. A lurching, toxic groove about betrayal that doesn’t blink once.
The Nurse
A deranged lullaby with marimbas that lull you in before the guitars stab you in the ribs. It’s unsettling, theatrical, and almost camp—but too raw to feel safe. Jack’s falsetto gives it an eerie vulnerability.
My Doorbell
Maybe the most fun he’s ever had on tape. No guitars, just bouncing piano and a drumbeat you could ride a bike to. Infectious as hell. It’s like Jerry Lee Lewis covering a Beatles deep cut.
Forever for Her (Is Over for Me)
Bittersweet and full of air, this one glides on gentle guitar plucks and melancholy. Jack’s vocal is all restraint, all ache, and the melody folds in on itself like a collapsing tent.
Little Ghost
A creepy folk ditty that sounds like it wandered in from a haunted Appalachian front porch. Banjo, spectral harmonies, and a playfully sinister tale about chasing love—or something darker.