Album Reviews

This record reminds me of the first Talking Heads album, \\'77 The music kicks in a stilted sort of way; the front man is more weird than powerful, but draws skillfully on the music for his punch, so that his oddball catchphrases (many of them about everyday things like cities, buildings, and doing a good job, lending a certain Richard Scarry earnestness) are driven into your head. He doesn\\'t exactly chant, but it feels like he does. The album is actually more “good” than it is “fun to listen to”-I keep having to make myself put it on. But I\\'m often glad I did.This record reminds me of the first Talking Heads album, '77 The music kicks in a stilted sort of way; the front man is more weird than powerful, but draws skillfully on the music for his punch, so that his oddball catchphrases (many of them about everyday things like cities, buildings, and doing a good job, lending a certain Richard Scarry earnestness) are driven into your head. He doesn't exactly chant, but it feels like he does. The album is actually more “good” than it is “fun to listen to”-I keep having to make myself put it on. But I'm often glad I did. But I don't listen for all that long.

Other than a relatively handful of punchy joyous love songs (“I Feel Fine,” the Ramones' “She's the One”), most great rock music might be said to either express frustration at one's troubles (and sometimes a determination to fix them), or celebrate dancing all over them and then setting them on fire. To follow in the shoes of either “We Can Work it Out” or “Get Off of My Cloud,” either “Train in Vain” or “Anarchy in the U.K.” Interpol's songs can definitely be found in the former “fix this mess” camp most often; and therefore you never get quite the same Dionysian, screw-it-all catharsis from their music that you do from, to take the best current example, the White Stripes. Interpol prefers to turn the screw; they find themselves in a hole and defiantly keep digging. Listening to their best stuff, the adjectives “brave” and “determined” come to mind.

Readers of my reviews know that I delve into lyrics when their quality and the singer's style push me to do so - as a listener, I let the music run the show for the most part, but I'm always up for good lyrics when they're pushy, clever or beautiful enough to make a space for themselves in my consciousness. While individual lines don't do that so much with Interpol, an overall sense of striving for something better comes across. Without being preachy or self-righteous in the least, the singer seems to be continually finding himself in situations that need work, and to be bearing down with varying degrees of doggedness and irritation to doing it. The David Byrne/early Talking Heads connection is in that persona (along with the tough but somewhat herky-jerky music): there is tension, it builds, and it usually gets released in fine style; the songs seem to be about something, and the listener is almost intrigued enough to try to figure out what that might be. In other words, the lyrics are mysterious in the Bob Dylan rather than the Michael Stipe sense: you know what he's saying, but it's hard to pin down. And yet in the end, the whole thing is more exhausting than enjoyable. Which, again, isn't necessarily a flat-out criticism. Look, he's got ME doing it: reviewing in loops, being hard to pin down! Call this the Interpol of reviews.

The band actually sounds a lot like the wonderful, undeservedly obscure Dismemberment Plan, although that band is a bit more musically sophisticated, and boasts a more technically skillful and smooth vocalist (which of course might or might not be good for this kind of music; but the D Plan makes it work for them). Another comparison that might give you an idea of Interpol's sound would be Gang of Four, sped up a lot and edited for Modern Alternative radio; they also bear a resemblance to the most accessible Modest Mouse stuff-or perhaps a less rootsy Strokes, with more soft, pretty parts thrown in. Basically Interpol have a sparse, crisp sort of sound, where the guitars bark at you during the wide-open verses, and then everything comes crashing in during the choruses, with chiming guitar, humming bass, and the insistent singer driving home his hooks and sloganistic lyrics that almost make sense, nice and hard, without benefit of vocal harmonies. Though I haven't seen them, you can tell from the description in that last sentence that this band would almost have to be good in person.

Here, let's take the tour. “Next Exit,” the opener, starts with a lovely and deceptively-peaceful organ, soon interrupted by the singer's cries of “we ain't going to the town/we're going to the city.” (By the way, I'm calling him “the singer” and “the front man” because Interpol choose not to give personnel info in the album beyond their four names; and I find this perfectly valid and refuse to go hopping around the Internet for more details from fan websites and press releases. Let's let the work speak for itself.) The drums don't quite thunder, but they do shamble appealingly, quite enough for a short winning opener (and this band does have the gift of brevity, rarely making you wish their song was over).

Track 2, “Evil,” with its ominous throbbing bass opening, will sound familiar to fans of Sugar's Copper Blue album, even down to short cryptic vocal hooks like “when hate is on trial,” “I spent a lifespan/with no cellmate” (if I'm not mishearing that - more fun without a net, or a lyric sheet!), and “why can't we just look the other way?” Turn it up and this song really rocks, with its humming rhythm section and good sparse guitar. In fact, one of the most refreshing (though un-obvious) things about this band is that something is always falling apart while something else holds it all together, but which instrument plays which role keeps shifting. Song 3, “Narc,” has bass so odd that the mix reminds me of XTC's “Living Through Another Cuba” or something from Television's Marquee Moon; and while the choppy nervous guitars continue from the song before, here they serve as the anchor in a much stormier sea.

Track 4, “Take You on a Cruise,” sounds like it could've (but shouldn't have) been the single, with cello-ish backwards guitar, a broken beat, and a second jangly guitar that could easily be The Edge. It's actually neither a particularly good nor a particularly hooky song; but since it's Sound Uber Alles lately, I can see it catching people's ears. I don't like it; it reminds me of The Killers. It's also too long.

Track 5 (or “end of Side 1” for my vinyl brethren), “Slow Hands,” boasts twangy guitar, lots of energy, and nifty Strokesy harmony riffs between bass and guitar in the breaks. (I believe it was actually the first single, followed by the superb “Evil.”) “Not Even Jail” is a highlight, the bass player bouncing countermelodies off the drummer's fat foundation with just enough bottom and just enough twang. This song features everything Interpol does best - simple but not ordinary melodies, good playing, big midtempo beat. This one would be great live. Almost sounds like the Godfathers - the Strokes would kill for it. Sounds like they're having fun.

“Public Pervert” is only OK. “C'mere” is another good rocker, and “Length of Love” moves along nicely in Interpol's fallback Strokes/early U2 mode. “A Time to Be So Small,” while not the best song on the album, finishes it in fine style, with the set's best “big” guitar, and a mood and feel that seems to circle us back to the opener for a nice sense of unity.

The sound on this LP is punchy, but kind of nasty in the way that cheaply-pressed vinyl can be. It kicks, but I strongly suspect that the CD both kicks and isn't distorted (distorted in the bad sense, natch); I can hear a decent recording in there somewhere, wanting to get out. A rare case where I'd recommend the CD over the vinyl.

This is a good band. I'm about to dig into the album before Antics. If you don't already own it, stay tuned.