The Singles Jukebox

Last night, she said “Haven’t you people ever heard of closing the god-damn door neeeer”…

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[5.20]

Jonathan Bogart: It wasn’t until they went away that I realized it was possible to miss them. Somehow the intervening silence has only made their shadows longer; now that it’s possible to ignore both the silly pre-Internet hype and First Impressions of Earth, we can dig into the surprisingly melodic, surprisingly rhythmic tight new wave guitar-pop band they always were. Maybe it’s simple nostalgia that makes me wish Casablancas was still up too close to the mike and running his voice through a filter, but the strangled yelp he opens the song with makes him sound like a lesser imitator: the Bravery, or some shit. That’s forgotten by the time the two bars of a changed tempo makes for the most exciting instrumental break I’ve heard since … well, since “Hold It Against Me.” In the end, I don’t love the Strokes because they’re The Last Rock Band or whatever; I love them because they’re a fantastic pop act.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: I loved a couple of their early songs, but have not managed to sustain any great interest in them. This chugs along nicely enough, but I kept hoping for some sort of terrific “Last Night” style chorus, which never materialises.
[5]

Mark Sinker: It’s ten blimey TEN realtiemz years since the grand days of early ILM, when the Strokes first popped my line of audit, and I honestly I don’t recall if I had a “line” on them then. Against my ilxor principles even to listen to music, of course, but I still very likely had a line; what I’m forgetting is whether I went aggressively public with it. Back then I don’t think I was really missing guitar at all. Now I see I am. I should write something about it.
[8]

Jer Fairall: No chance that they’ll cease mistaking borrowed attitude for songwriting this late in the game, but at least for about an album and a half they were able to bash out some hooks memorable enough to sometimes mask their complete derivativeness. Not so on this completely uninteresting and even lazy-sounding comeback bid, less a song than a pile of earnest garage-y riffs trying to rouse themselves in search of one.
[3]

Anthony Easton: Generic and easily forgettable.
[4]

Iain Mew: Excellent range of riffing, but demonstrates all too well why it was better when the vocals sounded like they were coming from the other end of a fuzzy telephone line.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Not as good as the Living Color song with which it shares a name. Not as memorable as Julian Casablancas’ solo singles. Not as fun as when they drunkenly made passes at reporters.
[3]

Kat Stevens: Never let it be said that The Strokes are rule-breakers. Their level of resistance to innovation and experimentation over a ten-year career is really quite something. There is no dance element to their music, no co-opted Afropop stylings nor any spooky electronica witchstep-bibble. Instead there is the same old thin guitar noise that sounds like it’s straining to pass a difficult spiky poo.
[3]

Edward Okulicz: Might be the best thing they’ve done since “Hard To Explain”, Julian Casablancas’ voice having picked up some colour in the last couple of years and maybe an ounce of versatility. But at least in the verses, you get the feeling the melody doesn’t quite fit rhythmically with the pleasant jangle of the guitars and was flown in from another composition at the last minute. I’ll play the chorus until I work out which U2 song it reminds me of.
[5]

Josh Langhoff: The interlocking instrumentalists put on an absurdly cheerful show choir routine, while token sad kid Julian cobbles a melody out of whatever notes and words he’s got lying around. The wobbly “puppet on a string” melody cribs from “Last Night” and sounds like a tic, but the “so long” hook comes straight from U2’s “Angel of Harlem”, which gives the whole thing a wistfulness that’s not entirely earned by the words. It’s a rigorous and warmhearted comeback anthem that’s all about saying goodbye.
[8]