April 2003. The month I turned 18. I had a car, enough money for petrol, and was heading to the end of my time in sixth form. Driving round Bishop's Stortford with a couple of mates, doing not much, there were a handful of CDs in the glovebox - with the player plugged in of course via one of those cassette adaptors.
Elephant by The White Stripes was without doubt the most played.
I'd seen them at Reading Festival the year before in a late afternoon slot sandwiched between The Dandy Warhols and Weezer, and it was probably the greatest set I have ever seen to this day.
More on that when we get to White Blood Cells, but that gig made me fall in love with this duo - who seemed to come from another time, another world.
The early 00s was the beginning of the hyper-processed. auto-tuned, sterile music that dominates the chart now, and to hear a band that were so analogue was, ironically, a breath of fresh air.
Anyway, the album. Even before it was released, it felt like this was going to be Jack White's big statement. Like he was going to make a truly classic album that would belong to us - to 18 year olds in small towns driving around, waiting to go off and make our way in the world.
And boy, did he deliver.
Elephant kicks off with what is now the most famous guitar riff ever written. From football stadiums to supporters of Jeremy Corbyn, 'Seven Nation Army' has been adopted by crowds across the world.
The song is of course huge - which is not bad for a tune that doesn't actually have a chorus.
The first four songs are relentless, including the vocal harmony heavy and feedback soaked 'There's No Home For You Here', which sounds like the unholy offspring of The Jesus and Mary Chain and Queen.
Alongside the raucous numbers are some ballads, including the Meg White sung 'In The Cold, Cold Night'. Listening back to the album, the grouping of that song with 'I Want To Be The Boy To Warm Your Mother's Heart' and 'You've Got Her In Your Pocket' in the middle of the running order do take some of the energy out of the album, and perhaps one of them should have been relegated to a B-side.
The big statement of the album is 'Ball and Biscuit' - a seven-minute long blues number that you feel is the culmination of White's love of Page, Hendrix et al. It's a brilliant tune with searing guitar solos that feel like White is just cutting open a vein and letting it all spill out of him.
There's a great run of three pure garage rock tracks near the end of the record - 'Hypnotize', 'The Air Near My Fingers', 'Girl, You Have No Faith In Medicine' - which remind you that White can just throw out songs most bands would kill for.
20 years on it sounds like it did in 2003. Out of date, and therefore timeless. I loved this album then and I love it now. I loved that someone made an album that we knew was one of the greats. I loved that we were at the perfect age to appreciate it. Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven.
9/10
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