Interpol, Turn On The Bright Lights (Matador) 9+
Interpol is a NYC (well, half-British) group of young, privileged, sharp-dressed boys who blatantly draw their influences from one specific era. Sound familiar? The difference is that the scene cognoscenti still seem open to liking them, partly because the hype has not yet risen to hysterical levels, partly because they have such damn good taste in what they plunder. Even better, aside from "Say Hello To The Angels"'s rip-off of The Smiths' "This Charming Man," Interpol manage to carve a (somewhat shallow) niche of their own sound, and it's gorgeous. Joy Division is most often the band cited, mainly because most people (at least the Yanks) aren't really familiar with The Sound, The Chameleons, Teardrop Explodes or Josef K. I'm willing to bet these guys are. The album starts strong with the scintillating "Untitled," with impressive drumming worthy of Radiohead's Phil Selway. On the tense "Obstacle 1," Paul Banks' singing verges on the brink of sobbing, as he seethes with frustration and rage. The floaty and atmospheric "NYC" would fit nicely on Echo & The Bunnymen's Ocean Rain. It's that good. "Stella Was A Diver And She Was Always Down" spells out the requisite doomed relationship with the ultra-depressed girlfriend, but despite the seemingly glib title, the band pulls it off with sincerity, tenderness and passion. Like Joy Division, Interpol could be unfairly pegged as gaudy gloom merchants, when in reality they feature a wide range of powerful emotions, all linked by their intensity. The album winds down with the almost Pixies-ish guitars of "The New," and the elegiac "Leif Erikson." Turn on the Bright Lights is a far better debut by such a young band than anyone could expect since, well, The Strokes. It'll be fascinating to watch them evolve.
