Can’t help wishing Mr. Vaccines had made a face in the video like last time…

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Brad Shoup: No stakes, either. That slap-back delay belongs with a song that has any hope of rocking, not with this Alex-Turner-via-Bob-Dylan whinging jangle.
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Jonathan Bogart: Somebody’s angling to be included in a Wes Anderson movie in 2052. Somebody’s going to be disappointed.
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Alfred Soto: Teenage angst has paid off well – now I’m smug and young. 
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Iain Mew: Starts like the chugging transition bit in Franz Ferdinand’s “Take Me Out”, but instead of seguing into FUN they kill all the momentum so that we can concentrate on Jay Jay Pistolet telling us that he’s had an uneventful youth and is the voice of a generation. Except that he’s only mentioning those things to say that he won’t say them and to wish that he was less self-absorbed; he has his cake and disdains it too. “No Hope” goes on like that and outside of the intro doesn’t have a hint of the scrappy punk of most of their best songs, or whatever peculiar magic made “Post-Break-Up Sex” work. It’s a minute longer than all but one track on their first album and does nothing with that time.
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Anthony Easton: Could be Frank Turner, but Frank Turner writes small details, and is both more hopeful and angrier. 
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Colin Small: In Doom Metal, most bands aim to recreate the signature sound defined by three early Black Sabbath tracks. “No Hope” seems to be part of a similar cult stemming from Is This It?
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Patrick St. Michel: “No Hope” wants to appeal to my generation, a demographic of young adults who have recently moved on from the care-free world of university and now find themselves making the transition into the big-bad-scary world of adults, in particularly grim economic times at that.  This is the sort of heads-first song that would be fun to shout along with live as a way to let off some post-collegiate steam, preferably at a festival surrounded by a bunch of other 20-somethings. Thing is, I might also be 24 and prone to boredom, but I can spot an insincere dude a mile away, and Justin Young’s snotty vocals make me far less enthusiastic to scream along with. Besides being a terrible role model — kids, please care about other people, don’t be self absorbed — he’s also unwilling to commit to his earnestness, most of “No Hope” shielded by a style of singing where I can see the sneer on his face and his eyes rolling after every sentence.  On top of that, he says this all came from deep within him, even though anyone can hear The Strokes’ discography on Spotify.
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Katherine St Asaph: Thought Catalog is a place for relevant and relatable non-fiction and thought. We’re nobrow and nonpartisan. We don’t take any of this or ourselves too seriously.
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