Firstly, let’s get this year’s episode of the “are they or aren’t they?” soap opera out of the way. Apparently, Jack and Meg White are not siblings. According to the latest reports, which don’t carry a statement from the Whites, they were indeed briefly married and separated as the rumours alleged. But you can bet your rare $400 plus promo that there’ll be a brand new twist in time for the next album if not sooner. Whatever way you look at it, it’s still a darn weird thing to concoct, but at least it is refreshing to have a sense of mystery in music when everything is over-analysed, over-exposed and frequently over-rated. Indeed, if The White Stripes weren’t so dazzling and brilliant they’d just be some kooky novelty band.

But naturally, we do know just how good The White Stripes are. ‘Hotel Yorba’ and ‘Fell In Love With A Girl’ were fresh and ferocious and instantly addictive, even after being caned to death. The Stripes’ songs contained remarkable stealth. The more you heard them, the less of a quirky proposition they became. A three album strong back catalogue set them apart from the brilliant but threadbare Strokes – who admittedly essayed their debut around a bunch of EPs showing no qualms for repeating material. Live, they were sensational. It was simply unprecedented that two people could be so captivating, miraculously losing nothing whatsoever in the sudden sky rocket from a sweaty club to the enormodrome.

Elephant is the post-hoopla record to beat them all. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it will be. When you first hear ‘Seven Nation Army’, you think they’ve chucked out the formula and employed a bass player. But no Siree trivia fans, Master Jack White is just playing with an octave pedal and doing some serious down tuning on his guitar. He barks some cryptic biting lyrics into a distorted mike; “Everybody knows about it/from the Queen of England to the hounds of hell”, and breaks into one of those primeval riffs that you can feel forming one gigantic air guitar power chord from Detroit to Drimnagh. Bliss. Music seldom comes so perfect for the purposes of mirrors and tennis rackets.

The glorious assault steamrolls through ‘Black Math’ – a barbed ear-bleeding pop number meets Sabbath about bad teachers to mosh along to at the back of the class. ‘There’s No Home For You Here’ is ‘Dead Leaves In The Dirty Ground’ re-worked as a cut-up Beatlesque vocal collage. Initially, I had misgivings, but now it has entered the inner sacred sanctum of Elephant favourites. It sits well with some fantastic pop flirtations like a cover of Dusty Springfield’s ‘I Don’t Know What To Do With Myself’ and a Meg led vocal piece entitled ‘In The Cold Cold Night’ where her voice is a dead ringer for VU drumming Queen Mo Tucker.

At the core of Elephant, there is a self-proclaimed Jack White obsession with the death of a sweetheart, most notably on the more conventional sounding moments like ‘I Wanna Be The Boy’ and ‘You’ve Got Her in Your Pocket’, the most direct descendants of the blues to be found at this circus of noise. ‘Ball And Biscuit’ and ‘The Hardest Button To Button’ are both pure, unadulterated voodoo blues magic, richly steeped in tradition but still utterly contemporary.

‘It’s True That We Love One Another’ is the ultimate parting shot to befuddle the gossipers even further. Jack, Meg and Thee Headcoatees singer Holly Golightly engage in a sung three-way conversation. Holly loves Jack like a little brother, Meg doesn’t care ‘cos Jack really bugs her and Jack has Holly’s number written in the back of his bible. It is funny rather than heart-broken, but if the latest claims are true, then The White Stripes are sharing similar emotional terrain to the punk blues of X, an ’80s Californian punk rock band that bared their forensic post-split examinations for all to see on Ain’t Love Grand – an unflinching and very personal account of the relationship between vocalists John Doe and Exene Cervenka. But I wouldn’t dwell on that too much, as the press release saying they are second cousins twice removed is due to land in my inbox any minute now. The real issue is that Elephant quite simply kicks serious ass. You’ll love every second of it.