Artist bio

New York City’s Interpol are a throwback to the times when bands weren’t on magazine covers after their fifth gig, back when the hyperbolic English hype machine didn’t go ballistic over a band who had released a grand total of three songs.

Albums by this artist

Antics (2004)

Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

Precipitate (2001)

Interpol

Turn On The Bright Lights

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» JOHN EVERHART | CONTRIBUTOR

Interpol Turn On The Bright Lights Matador, 2002 RiYL: Television, The Smiths, Joy Division

New York City’s Interpol are a throwback to the times when bands weren’t on magazine covers after their fifth gig, back when the hyperbolic English hype machine didn’t go ballistic over a band who had released a grand total of three songs. Interpol is a band in the purest aesthetic sense, four independent parts gelling together as a unit, in the vein of early R.E.M. or Television or Sleater-Kinney. Not to compare them to these bands sonically, but at a level of principles and spirit, there’s a strong resemblance. Their debut album, Turn On The Bright Lights, is an exhilarating ride through dank subway cars, couches to crash on, despair, and isolation.

Exhilaration is perhaps the most appropriate emotion you could ascribe to this record. You find it in frontman Paul Banks’ impassioned vocals, tempered by a sense of quixotic ennui; and in the twin guitar assault from Banks and Dan Kessler, playing off each other so intuitively, as they alternately jangle and rock; and in the rhythm section, the way Carlos D.’s melodic bass lines so effectively lock in with Samuel’s propulsive drumming. While Interpol has some fairly obvious antecedents (The Wedding Present, Joy Division), they play with such raw conviction that you can’t help but to be captivated.

The songs veer from Smiths-style balladry ("NYC") to dissonant rave-ups ("PDA"). "PDA" bowls you over with a jagged guitar assault and the insistently catchy refrain of, "sleep tight, tonight, we’ve got 200 couches where you can sleep tonight," while "NYC" is a pining ode to isolation, as Banks laments of "Spending all these lonely nights, training myself not to care." Things really get going with the incendiary "Obstacle 1," a seething rocker, as Banks wails desperately of how, "She plucks away at my little heart" over the caustic squall of Kessler’s guitar. The gloomy "Stella Was A Diver And She Was Always Down" conjures images of bleak desperation, as Banks’ plaintive cry of "Stella" gives way to a wash of serrated chords.

There’s a pensiveness belying these songs, particularly on the closing two tracks, "The New" and "Leif Erikson." "The New" shimmers gorgeously for the first four minutes, before abruptly metamorphosing into a Mission Of Burma-esque repetitive, droning rocker. Closer "Leif Erikson" is fraught with tension, building so gradually that you think there’s going to be an anthemic climax, but it never comes, gently smoldering away beneath resplendent chiming guitars as Banks languidly intones, "it’s like learning a new language, you’ll come here to me."

Certainly one of the best albums of the year, Bright Lights is a magnificent achievement. Hopefully these guys will be at this for a while. They’ve released one of the finest debut albums in recent memory, and seem destined for even greater things.

JOHN EVERHART |