is this it
the strokes

It must suck to have to deal with the hype of being labeled the next "it" band. This is the enviable dilemma that The Strokes are facing after the release of their first album, appropriately titled "Is This It". From the first note the album sounds pleasantly dirty and underproduced. My first response was "where the fuck did this come from?" This album sounds like it just drifted out of some street side basement window. It isn't four-track in my bedroom dirty, but it has a raw intensity that seems to be missing from music today. Ladies and gentlemen, we have found our anti-Creed.

It is impossible to avoid comparisons to Velvet Underground and Iggy Pop but The Strokes have a knack for song construction and a pop sensibility that could take them a long way. Their first single "Last Nite" begins with a chiming guitar and bass riff that sounds like Tom Petty's "American Girl" turned on its head, but Casablancas vocals quickly erase any "this sounds like" comparisons. The band's sound is driven by their incredibly tight and frantic rhythm section of Fab Moretti on drums, Nikolai Fraiture on bass, and Nick Valensi on guitar. They seem obsessed with this driving sound that gives "Is This It" an urgency that carries you through the thirty-five minutes of dirty bliss. The songs are short, sweet, and to the point. There is no fucking around, just perfect twists and turns and musicianship to spare.

This album is pure big city and rich-kid attitude. I don't think the Midwest will ever hear it, or understand it, but it doesn't matter. The Strokes sound is so infectious it could easily spawn a rebirth of the New York "not so underground" scene. All the pieces are in place. They have the hardened city kid image, the "new" sound, and most importantly a strangely charismatic frontman. Lead singer Julian Casablancas' voice possesses that rare "I really don't give a fuck" sound. This isn't Fred Durst angry...this is intellectual and aloof. Just listen to "Barely Legal". "I wanna steal your innocence/To me my life it don't make sense...I should have worked much harder/ I should have just not bothered". Casablancas delivery makes the songs come off like morning-after stories of wild nights and early morning debauchery. Each track is a little three minute synopsis of a life far too cool for you. This album is late nights and empty bottles and too much time on your hands. The lyrics aren't brilliant, but what punk is? The intensity of the music more than compensates for any lack of lyrical depth or introspection. Viewed as a punk album, it's great...as pop it's fucking brilliant.