Heads
Let’s start by praising Jebus for the good news: “Comedown Machine” is better than “Angles,” The Strokes’ much-maligned fourth-album, that sporadically redeeming stinker that hummed with all the power of a weed whacker left in snow until the thaw of spring.
After a few spins, it’s clear that this disc marks the end of a long winter for Strokes die-hards, one that began more than half a decade ago with “First Impressions of Earth.” While “Comedown Machine” may not be a “return to form” – that mythical jackalope formulated by marketing companies – after all the bone-chilling lows, it’s good enough to be called the rightful sequel to “Room on Fire.”
If The Strokes once held the throne of rock ‘n’ roll, “Comedown Machine” is a long-lost heir. It won’t help The Strokes take back the crown, but it’s good enough to have a formidable army at its back.
The album succeeds on a legacy level, cementing “Angles” as less of a disappointment than a series of experiments that were necessary to help the band find a new sound. Viewed in this light, “Angles” takes on a purpose it never mustered on its own.
It’s also a win on a listenability level, a bold, if sometimes unsteady step by a group that could’ve avoided the changing seasons of music, like AC/DC and The Ramones before them, and made a solid living pumping out a new “Is This It?” every two years.
Here, The Strokes select a new palette wisely. “Machu Picchu” was a clear standout from “Angles,” one that opened the band’s sound to new inspirations without sacrificing their strengths: energetic, pulse-y rhythms and double guitars. And “Comedown Machine” is best when it piles on the style and texture we’ve come to associate with the band no matter the other forces at play.
“Tap Out” rides syncopated, prog-flavored island grooves into a well-worded guitar solo from lead guitarist Albert Hammond Jr., an early sign that he and band leader Julian Casablancas are again writing on the same page, even if they’re using different colored crayons sometimes.
The attempts at big singles aren’t as successful. “All The Time” has a particularly bland chorus that isn’t worth sitting through a YouTube advertisement for, while “One Way Trigger” sounds like The Strokes really think the kids are into A-Ha.
But, “80s Comedown Machine,” “Chances” and “Call it Fate, Call it Karma” are ballsy tracks. At the very least, The Strokes have shown they are determined to follow their nose, even if that means sniffing some unusual scents, and with “Comedown Machine,” they finally sound like they’re in control of the dogs.
Tails
More than 10 years after hitting it big, The Strokes have become the indie-sphere’s super seniors. In a sense they have it good, they aren’t pressured by the need to sell more albums and they don’t have to resort to attention-grabbing stunts to stay relevant.
The fashionable New Yorkers maintain a devout following for the strength of the one-two punch that was “Is This It?” and “Room on Fire,” and after the demise of The White Stripes, they can call themselves the last vestige of the “real” rock craze that swept through the mainstream at the turn of the millennium, even if they haven’t risen to the level of elder statesmen to the current scene.
But, there are downsides to being caught between your whip cream-flavored vodka freshman days and the nine-to-five monotony that shackles post-grads. Namely, that you have too many characteristics of each group: Your younger friends are waking up on floors, the older ones live hours away and you aren’t spontaneous or stable enough to feel comfortable – or get invited – anywhere.
The Strokes are like this now. Few bands seem inclined to pursue the proto-punk sounds of The Velvet Underground or Television like they did, and their signature sentiment – that jaded New York ambivalence – has been replaced by the save-the-world-through-recycling rallying cries of bands like Arcade Fire and Mumford & Sons, a sentiment that really doesn’t fit The Strokes’ template.
The question with “Comedown Machine” then becomes, what kind of party are The Strokes attending?
Sadly, the new album finds The Strokes bringing craft beer to a dorm party. It’s as if the band heard that the ’80s were cool again and scrambled to put together a record with these sounds, taking a blind handful of whatever they could find.
But don’t worry, they tacked a few “Strokes” singles in there, too: “All The Time” and “One Way Trigger.” But like an older guy creeping on an underclassman, the moves don’t work anymore.
It’s a sad truth, but The Strokes may want to consider getting real jobs.
Verdict: Heads
Pete Rizzo can be reached at prizzo@thoughtpollution.com.