As I sit here, with pain in the neck, shoulder and arm, what I really don’t need right now is another reminder of the ageing process. And yet that’s exactly what Fell in Love With a Girl is: once upon a time, in an indie disco far away, it was a short sharp shock of raucous rock, a perfect and succinct call to the floor just under two minutes of over-enthusiastic (probably) slightly drunk leaping about and singing. I say singing, yelling would be more accurate.

That was then, this is now, a present in which I am sitting, restrained (if not refined), vicariously throwing shapes through my mind’s eye, while wondering whatever happened to those days, well over a decade ago, when, as The White Stripes, Jack and Meg White were an enigmatic duo of some future promise, pre-_Seven Nation Army_, pre-Glastonbury headlining, pre-Raconteurs, pre-The Dead Weather, and pre-Third Man Records.

And yet, even after time’s arrow has twanged through all of those, Fell in Love With a Girl is still a wonderful primordial stomp, its power and thrill undiminished.