Six summers ago, the rigorously stylish New York rock-band revival—skinny guys in skinny pants slinging vintage guitars and vintage attitudes—was exploding through the global music scene like a timed demolition. Today the idea seems almost ready for VH1. The Strokes have retreated into occasional mentions in real-estate columns (plus the guitarist’s solo project), while once-hot acts like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the Walkmen float in a seemingly terminal spiral of diminished expectations. Meanwhile, the New Yorkiest musicians of the moment aren’t rock bands at all but post-punk pasteup artists (LCD Soundsystem), remixers (Girl Talk), folk revisionists (Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, Sufjan Stevens), and the kind of arch downtown trash (Scissor Sisters, Dangerous Muse) that the Great Rock Revival thought it knocked back behind the makeup counter. Products of the iPod/YouTube/ProTools generation, they’re more futuristic and oblique, music made mostly in bedrooms.
In this environment, Interpol returns with their third album, Our Love to Admire, at risk of seeming beside the point. Never the most original member of a fundamentally derivative scene—their first album, Turn on the Bright Lights, was knocked early and often for adhering a little too closely to the Joy Division playbook—they’re a surprising candidate for the last band left standing. “In 2001, we weren’t mentioned that much, in terms of New York City bands,” says guitarist Daniel Kessler, who assembled the group (which includes singer Paul Banks, drummer Sam Fogarino, and guitarist Carlos D) from fellow NYU students in 1997. “When the Strokes were becoming a worldwide phenomenon, people weren’t writing about us, and we’d been around for four years.”( oh spare me the suspense + close up of pictureCollapse )sourcesource