Detroit duo The White Stripes seem a very confused couple. Jack (guitar, vocal) and Meg White (drums) can't seem to decide whether they are brother and sister or husband and wife. Jack insists it's the former -- and that they started the whole rumor that they were married for nothing more than a laugh. The media seems to think the opposite, with reports that they were divorced last year and are pretending to be siblings to draw attention away from their failed marriage.

The cool thing for us is that this confusion carries on into their music: The White Stripes don't seem to know what kind of band they want to be either and have, as a result, come up with an album that dabbles in so many styles you never know what they are going to do next.

Often this kind of excessive eclecticism fails, but "White Blood Cells" is riveting from start to finish. The Stripes basically pull it off by infusing the whole thing with a raw bluesy vibe based in a pop sensibility. And, of course, a bunch of awesome tunes. As a rough guide, think Jon Spencer playing The Kinks' back catalog. Although it's not quite that simple.

"White Blood Cells" kicks off with the straightforward down-and-dirty blues of "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" and the twisted singalong folk of "Hotel Yorba," which sounds like a cider-addled Neil Young strumming round a campfire. But from then on in, it gets seriously twisted.

"The Union Forever" sounds like some obscure Californian psychedelic-punk band circa 1966; "Fell in Love With a Girl" is straightforward punk-rock thrash; "Expecting" sees the Stripes venture into stripped-down old-school heavy metal, with big drumming married to a repetitive guitar riff and screechy vocals that wouldn't be out of place on an AC/DC album.

Other tracks smack of cowboy hippies Quicksilver Messenger Service, while the gentle strum of "We're Going to be Friends" would not look out of place on an Eels album.

This is the sound of a band that doesn't know what fashion to follow -- except for their insistence on wearing only red and white clothes -- so they pull on a bit of everything and end up creating their own inimitable style. It helps, too, that Jack is God when he picks up his guitar. There's no bass or second guitar here, and little overdubbing. Jack just cuts loose and goes for it, strangling solo, hook and mega-riffage out of his restless fret board.

In short, "White Blood Cells" is a brilliant album. It's got a bit of everything and surely something for you.