Interpol – Turn On The Bright Lights Review

Posted by Adam Wallis on 08.29.2002

While the hype surrounding Interpol has, in many ways, rivaled that of New York City’s favorite sons the Strokes, the two bands are very different.

It’s been called the album that will save indie rock from the pits of garage-rock revivalist despair. It’s been suggested that this album could send modern rock music in an entirely new direction, ranking with such modern masterpieces as Radiohead’s O.K. Computer or My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless. They’ve been called the second coming of Joy Division. High praise, indeed.

Before the Hype Alarm can go off, allow me to set a few things straight. These boys call New York City home, but are clad in well-pressed suits and skinny ties - no vintage T-shirts or scruffy bell-bottom jeans to be found, and not a single afro or case of carefully engineered pseudo-bed-head among them. While the hype surrounding Interpol has, in many ways, rivaled that of New York City’s favorite sons the Strokes, the two bands are very different. Case in point: the Strokes find themselves with a plush record deal on the RCA label; Interpol, however, is on Matador, home of about a zillion bands you’ve never heard of and has a promotion budget that wouldn’t even buy Julian Casablancas a new dry-clean-only leather jacket. Frankly, there is no “hype” division at Matador; Interpol owes their recent buzz to a pair of stellar EPs and a ridiculous amount of touring. And now, after three years of relative obscurity, Interpol has finally released their debut full-length album, Turn On The Bright Lights.

However, I’m also not going to say that there won’t be backlash. Turn On The Bright Lights does hint at the lush majesty and ethereal beauty of both O.K. Computer and Loveless, but hasn’t quite reached that upper echelon of rock just yet. This is also not to say that Interpol is another of the increasingly common post-millennial indie rock bands that places style over substance. Interpol backs up the suits and haircuts with some music that, while not revelatory, is certainly a refreshing change from the increasingly repetitive emo-pop and lo-fi garage rock that currently dominates the indie world.

And yet, the lingering comparisons to Joy Division certainly wouldn’t please Paul Morley (an NME journalist that, upon hearing the first Joy Division album, promptly made the band his reason for living). In fact, this high standard actually just hurts the release by comparison. Sonically, a Joy Division influence is pretty easy to pick out, in the vague incorporations of pre-recorded sounds and the fact that Paul Banks’ pained, brooding vocals and lyrics are reminiscent of the late Ian Curtis. However, Joy Division prided themselves on their ability to incorporate the urgency of punk into their music; whatever punk ethics the individual members of Interpol may have are completely lost in their music. Frankly, this album is a lot more easily likened to Spoon’s :Girls Can Tell or a less aggressive version of …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead’s Source Tags And Codes than it is to either of the two Joy Division albums. Still, Interpol tries hard to match the moodiness and beauty that Ian Curtin and Co. could so easily toss off, and comes within a hair’s breadth of success. And frankly, to play the similarity game with a record this hypnotic and emotional is just plain unfair to the band.

The tragedy of modern rock is that whenever a band is blessed with critical praise, it creates a snowball effect that eventually ends with the band being unfairly based by the general public for not living up to the insurmountable hype. Hopefully, this won’t happen to Interpol, because – speaking solely as a guy who’s heard a lot of music – this is a damn fine album.