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Following the arty explorations of its predecessor, GET BEHIND ME SATAN, ICKY THUMP finds everybody's favorite platinum-selling, post-modern garage-rock duo returning to their bang-and-stomp rock-&-roll roots. The marimbas and pianos of the former are kicked to the curb in favor of the kind of Led Zeppelin-in-a-trash-can riffs on which Jack and Meg White built their cooler-than-ice reputation.
There's an overwhelming sense of urgency and catharsis on most tracks, as on the title cut, where Jack's Robert Plant-ish wail falls into a near-rap full of breathless cadences. That dirty, primal groove evoked by said title is the organizing principle of the album, sweaty blues-rock writ large and gritty. Even though there are a couple of brief stylistic diversions when the Whites veer into folkier territory, there's no mistaking ICKY THUMP's status as a thick slab of heavy rock capable of handily crushing lesser sonic statements.
