Career paths in music are rarely a unique journey. For any one trajectory—good or bad—carved by an act, you can be assured that several other bands from the same scene will follow a similar arc. Take The Strokes and Interpol. Both bands were a crucial part of the reemergence of New York City as a leader in the 'rebirth' of cool rock that accompanied the new millennium. Both released debuts heralded as instant classics, and quickly followed them up with sophomore releases met with nearly as much praise.
Then the dreaded 'misstep.' First Impressions Of Earth and Our Love To Admire were both labelled as such upon arrival—a kind of sympathetic mulligan that implies that this disappointment is more about the album in question than the band. Don't worry, the hopeful messages goes, this band has still got it; they just stumbled a little here. But here's the thing about missteps: you only get to make them once.
When Interpol's dreary self-titled effort of last year seemingly confirmed that the band was indeed stuck treading brackish water, and that Our Love was no false apparition, it was sad to see such a great young band fall so fully out of favour. With the release of Angles—an album that shares much more in common with First Impressions of Earth than that band's beloved first two LPs—many seemed poised to treat The Strokes with like-minded disdain, but I would encourage folks to not follow suit so fast.
For one thing, at least Angles is the product of an adventurous sonic palette. While Interpol shows us a band completely paralyzed by the thought of stepping outside their Joy-Division-in-an-airplane-hangar comfort zone, this record is all over the map. Calypso techno, snickering new wave, hazy ballads: it's all here, plus a few garage rave-ups just to remind us of their halcyon days. Much of the thinking around Impressions was that, as a misstep, it was an untrue representation of the band. But what if this development was in the cards all along? What if the answer to the titular question posed by their debut, Is This It?, was in fact an emphatic: "No way!"
I suppose you still have to like the album. Which I do, much more so than expected, considering I was never one to count the band as a favourite. True, the band's internal discord has been common knowledge for a while now, something that would suggest this is not the band at their best or as intended. But it's worth acknowledging the added freedom a band like The Strokes have today as opposed to even a decade ago. As has been already mused on these pages by this writer (most recently while discussing the new Cut Copy), deciding you wanted to sound like Television, Gang Of Four, The VU, Wire and so forth in 2001 was easy-peasy. Making tunes that sounded like The Cars and Duran Duran? Not as much.
Now that all bets are off in that department, many of us (musicians and fans alike) are getting the chance to judge the pleasures of our youth in a new light. In this way, the hiccuping pop of "Two Kinds of Happiness" works just fine, as does the nervous rush of "Taken For A Fool"—the fact that both tunes could be lost cuts from the soundtrack to The Karate Kid really doesn't bother me.
Lots of folks are complaining that Angles lacks the danger and desperate cohesion of their debut. To which I gotta say: in what world were The Strokes ever that dangerous, really? Or even desperate? It takes a lot more than a gloved hand on a woman's butt and a song about cops to make a band truly gritty. Angles is definitely not the band's best record (I'll personally take Room On Fire there), but it is a good one that gets better the more you live with it. And if it's the one that finally outs The Strokes as just a good pop band—and not rock 'n' roll's new saviours—then I'd say that's a good thing, for them and us.