“Elephant” is proof that simple, stripped-down American guitar-driven rock will remain defiant in a sea of hype-jobs and bloated productions.

All too often, it seems that bands overdose studio production; melodies are stacked upon melodies, dubbed vocals are harmonizing with other dubbed vocals and the production of the disc is greater than the actual disc itself.

The fourth effort from The White Stripes is a bare-bones (no computers were used in the writing, recording, mixing or mastering of “Elephant”) masterpiece from the Detroit duo that marked the real return of rock, when their contemporaries (The Vines, The Hives, The Strokes and other fellow modern Velvet Underground wannabes that begin with “The”) struggled to mimic the garage-rock sound of Nirvana.

“Elephant” is unique though – it belongs in its own class. “Elephant” is a finely woven clash of American music (blues, garage, folk) that swells in an eddy of surreal paranoia.

“Seven Nation Army” establishes a gray tone; Jack White’s sociopathic remarks (“And I’m talking to myself at night/ Because I can’t forget”) rings in every shrill falsetto and echoes in every bit of laughter.

“Ball and Biscuit” is a bluesy lament that conjures up memories of an unrefined R.L. Burnside.

Jack White’s high-strung voice cracks; he howls in “Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine” while his lightning-quick guitar licks spark a furious chorus of Meg White snare-drums and high-hats.

Meg White sings on the playfully cute “Well It’s True That We Love One Another” and her simple drumming style never overshoots the grassroots demeanor of the album.

“Elephant” is one of the best American rock CDs in years; passion and minimization is what makes this disc a success. Although relatively recent, The White Stripes typify what will be known as the new generation of classic rock and they bear that label proudly.

“Elephant,” as noted in the liner notes, is dedicated to “the death of the sweetheart.” What a magnificent pyre.