That hits your head circa May 1st. Chunklet Presents The Overrated Book will be out via Last Gasp. The contents will include three….THREE brand new, never-before ignored essays that wear my byline. This one didn’t make it. This one spent a brief life on failedpilot.com in a nascent incarnation, and is now being used as an excuse for blog content. Bask in its untimely quality and possible grammatical dysfunction. That’s not my job.
A HILARIOUS LOOK AT INTERPOL, BECAUSE I’M HILARIOUS.
By Andrew Earles
Interpol upstages most bands of equal popularity. The songwriting, dynamics, and guitar work can and often does transcend mediocrity. Interpol were not conceived of in a boardroom (though much of their post-breakout path certainly has been), they delivered a strong and palatable debut, they’ve remained on an indie (albeit a huge indie), and they’ve done exactly as planned: Release a lesser sophomore album.
But there seems to be some confusion…no, confusion is not the right term, there seems to be a gross misinterpretation of what Interpol do, by the band, critics and fans. So, that’s whole world; I meant the whole world. A review of Antics on a very, very popular website, the name of which rhymes with “Bitchcork,” claimed that Interpol’s debut, Turn On The Bright Lights, was one of “timeless singularity.” After I cleaned the exploded food from my keyboard and desk, my complete and total disagreement with this was narrowed down to some loose points.
The roots of Interpol’s sonic gift lay not in the 80’s, but firmly in the 90’s. They are a better than average guitar-centric indie rock band. And that pinch, that very tiny pinch of “the 80’s” in Interpol’s sound comes straight from both top-40 era Psychedelic Furs and a little band called the Church. I hate to address the Joy Division thing, but because IT’S STILL BEING ADDRESSED BY BAD MUSIC JOURNALISTS, I reckon a swift debunk is deserved. Those who believe that Interpol are heavily indebted to Joy Division, or the subsequently marginal Chameleons, or are a “(post)-post-punk” band; you are invited to listen to more music. Seems not enough of those invites go out these days. And if Interpol sound like the Church, as was my claim, they sound like that band’s early albums. Another tendency of lazy (or stupid) music writers is to imply that The Church’s career began with Starfish. There were five albums released before the Church’s 1988 breakthrough. These were worthy albums with brilliant moments, especially the first two, 1981’s Of Skins And Heart and 1982’s The Blurred Crusade. What the hell does that have to do with Interpol? Interpol sort of sound like those albums, but more importantly, Interpol, as with early Church, sit glued between good and great. No, “great” is too much. They sit between good and better. What Interpol are REALLY copping, unconscious or not, is the sound of an early-90’s shoegazer band on their fifth album, you know, that fifth album that all of them released as a last gasp, stripped fairly clean of distortion, vocals all up in your business, settling for jangles in the crescendos instead of drawers-soiling noise. That’s getting a little closer. If Turn On The Bright Lights had been released in 1995, there would have been a more pointed brand of critical acclaim, but on a lower level, in stride with the smaller amount of exposure this band would have received in the 90’s. Yes, Interpol could have easily happened in the 90’s.
Bands dressed up in the 90’s, too, but fashion was admittedly a second overall concern “in the scene.” If Interpol’s sound owes more to the past decade than anyone is willing to say, the band’s style is in stark contrast to the slovenly “fuck-it” look popular with most 90’s indie rock bands. Trust me, I got no beef with looking good, but I have a beef with the media acting as though this was the first band to put on a suit. It means absolutely nothing in the 00’s. You can’t swing your affected bangs without hitting a band that looks like Interpol.
At least two of the members have no idea how to carry themselves within their chosen fashion arrangements. I used to want to punch Carlos D. for that forced smirk, now I just feel sorry for the guy. I do not envy Trying Too Hard Action Figures. He does not wear it well; he is the picture of awkwardness. I also feel a little sorry for Paul Banks, as any photo spread reveals him to be the hipster’s Lemmy Kilmeister, which of course, can’t be helped, but something tells me that he needs to be taken down a notch. And that something is the rank audacity of “Interpol Space.” To the happily ignorant, I apologize for having to explain “Interpol Space,” as you likely didn’t feel like putting your head through the fucking wall in anger tonight. According to band and record label website press releases, Interpol Space is “not a traditional white-walled gallery, not a retail establishment nor an Interpol clubhouse but a more indefinable space to play host to the vision of the band and band’s close associates…the interior and exterior will be totally inspired by Interpol.” Art inspired by Interpol? The vision of the band and the band’s close associates? Five very expensive locations, NY, LA, London, Paris, and Berlin, will all host an Interpol Space. To suggest that there will ever be art inspired by Interpol that doesn’t induce bracing giggles, to do something this disgustingly egomaniacal! Incredible behavior from what is little more than a decent band. Think of the money! The pitiful reality is that people will start making art inspired by Interpol, and for the few months that someone in power believes that Interpol Space is a good idea, energy will be misguided by factions of a bigger problem, the problem of Creative Bankruptcy. Would Eric Clapton or Steven Tyler do something this embarrassing? Not even.
I have been listening to Antics for several days, almost a week. I do a lot of driving, and Antics has been the only CD in the car. Had I not been assigned this piece, would I have heard this album on my own accord? Probably. Whether or not I ripped it from a nameless shareware application or not, I enjoyed most of Turn On The Bright Lights; some of it quite a bit. What I’m about to write is a real time review as Antics plays through its forty-one minutes and thirty nine seconds. I will not pause the album. GO!
Days ago, I’d already decided at the gate that “No Exit” is either a misstep or a middle finger. A lifeless throwaway. Perhaps an attempt to throw distance between this and Turn On… when the rest of the album is more similar to its predecessor than not. A plodding snoozer that could be any of ten thousand other bands. The First Song Rule was clearly balked at.
“Evil” is the album’s first great song, regardless if there are only two of those. Fast and hooky vocals that voice mortifying (this will not be the first time for Antics, just wait) lyrics that implicate the existence of a Williamsburg Def Poetry Slam. Song is structured nicely, very memorable; I was humming it at some point today.
“Narc” may be one of the singles – haven’t been paying attention. Has a soaring chorus that could very well its meal ticket. Lyrics are easier to stomach than on “Evil.” Contains Antics’ only true salute to Television: About halfway through, a “Marquee Moon”/ “Elevation” – riff kicks off and stays around for the coda. That’s a bone for those who still think this band has something to do with post-punk.
“Time is like a broken watch, I make money like Fred Astaire, I see that you’ve come to resist me, I’m a pitbull in time.” Now, I may have gotten those last line wrong, but the rest….wow, not sure how lyrics that bad come out of someone over 16 that’s not encumbered with an electronic ankle bracelet. Like “Narc,” this one, called “Take You On A Cruise,” is middling goodness, and similarly gets much better towards the end.
I’m practically convinced that “Slow Hands” is the first single. Hold on, a quick visit to mtv2.com…yep, it is. Don’t know how common of a problem this is, but “Slow Hands” is the arch example of a good song demolished by a shit chorus. The chorus is foul Clear Channel radio trash. It reminds me of that Stone Temple Pilots hit, “Big Bang Baby.” To note: If you remember the video for said STP song, they were cribbing an 80’s thing in 1996. In 1996.
I like the lyrics to this next one, “Not Even Jail.” Just so happens that it’s the other great song. Silly, but I dig the line, “I will bounce you on the lap of silence, ……as a “rock writer,” I’m expected to be able to discern what makes this song great. That, dear, is one of the inherent problems with music journalism. If I get going on this one, I’m afraid I’ll start writing like Dave Eggers, and if that happens, the perfect place for me is in a ditch with a bullet. If you disagree that “Not Even Jail” is Antics’ best moment…that makes you wrong.
“Public Pervert” hovers underneath “Evil” and “Not Even Jail” as the album’s only “barely great” song. “If time is my vessel, then learning to love might be my way back to sea.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! So the lyrics….not so hot. Awesome repeated build up and minor guitar freak out work in its favor. Makes the cut.
“C’Mere” is uptempo and catchy as fuck. If logic dictates wherever these decisions are made, this will be the second single.
Into stinker territory we go. “Length Of Love” has the potential to grow those who give it about three years of undivided listening time, which is to say, people in rehab. Sounds like The Alan Parsons Project crossed with Interpol - add low carb Sonic Youth instrumental interlude. Forgettable.
Interpol already showed us exactly how NOT to start an album. It seems they want listeners to also hear the same expertise in ending one. “A Time To Be So Small” has so little going for it that I can’t even write.
I conclude that there are worse judgments than a call to shave the first and last two songs of a release. That would turn Antics into an EP; an EP more loaded than most. A strong EP. I sniff a pressure to produce a powerful full album when only a furiously ordinary album was ready to pop. With attention spans gasping for air these days, people were quickly forgetting about Interpol. Last year’s useless Black EP did nothing to keep the band prolific, and the rock world is farting out band after band that look good, sound horrible all the way to great, and that are making albums that will keep Antics company in the cut out bin. I remember what people cared about eight, nine years ago, so perk up when I state that, unless Interpol stay very visible and follow up Antics with a handful of masterworks, no one is gonna give three turds when the next generation of “saviors” rolls up in our faces. Oh, I forgot to mention the one rock rule that Interpol nailed: Old Drummer.