Strokes - The saviors of rock'n'roll

I want to be forgotten/ and I don’t want to be reminded

There's no such thing as a "before it was cool" when it comes to the Strokes. Famous before they'd even released an album, indie darlings who nonetheless always had a major label behind them, so knowingly shabby-chic they managed to turn it into a badge of honor, good-looking, young, well-off and utterly uninhibited, Julian Casablancas, Albert Hammond Jr, Fabrizio Moretti, Nikolai Fraiture and Nick Valensi crowned themselves the icons of the Noughties.

Is that all there is to it?

When Is This It came out in Europe, the Twin Towers hadn't fallen yet. Prophets everywhere but at home, the Strokes, out of New York City, had managed to conquer the old continent and land the cover of NME thanks to the attention Rough Trade paid to one of their demos, released under the title "The Modern Age" EP, which included "Last Nite", the all-access song that would open every door in the musical paradise for the band.

If the title chosen for the EP somehow recalls "Modern Life Is Rubbish" by Blur, the best description of the American quintet at the time still comes from a song written by Damon Albarn, "Jubilee". Not too far-fetched a comparison with the British band, considering that, by his own admission, Nikolai Fraiture learned to play bass from Alex James's parts. Is This It is the last great portrait of New York before the point of no return of that terrible September 11th. Filtering its zeitgeist are five twentysomethings based in the Lower East Side. They write about their own lives, play as if they were at CBGB's, dress like Lou Reed or Tom Verlaine, but without forgetting they'd just witnessed the turn of a millennium. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, no forcing, no posing: arrogant and cocky, wrecked yet authentic, textbook Millennials.

Julian Casablancas's voice, bored and slurred at times, angry and shouting at others, tells of life in the city, empty nights, wrong relationships, misunderstandings, insecurities, over guitar foundations laid by Albert Hammond Jr and Nick Valensi, architects of the sonic barriers the band chooses as a shield between themselves and the audience. Completing the picture are Fraiture's bass and Fabrizio Moretti's drums, creating a rhythmic base that seems modeled on the clatter of subway cars on the tracks, on hurried footsteps on the sidewalk, on the claustrophobic speed of the city. Tight rhythms, like those of "Last Nite" or the controversial "New York City Cops" — left off the US release after the towers fell — stand in contrast to slower, muffled moments, where contact with reality seems lost in psychedelic substances: a prime example is the title track "Is This It", whose debt to Oasis's "Supersonic" goes beyond the intro and extends into the storytelling.

The formula is simple: a dirty sound over catchy melodies, the feeling of being in a rehearsal room listening to friends play, an irresistible pull of fascination and identification that comes across as completely natural and spontaneous — the Strokes become the mouthpiece of an entire generation, which responds to them without hesitation, launching them straight onto the ramp of global success.

Don't stop me if I'm going too fast

Room On Fire is the Strokes' crowning achievement. Recorded after the long tour for Is This It, in just three months, after scrapping an earlier version produced by Nigel Godrich — the "sixth Radiohead" — in favor of returning to the safe hands of Gordon Raphael, who had already shaped the sound of their debut, the New York band's sophomore effort becomes its most faithful and programmatic portrait.
Chosen to precede its release was "12:51", an emblematic song for explaining the long stride towards maturity taken by Casablancas and co. during the making of the album: the sound stays dirty, but becomes more elaborate and complex; the lyrics don't lose the spleen that had marked Is This It, but transform it from post-adolescent rage into the sense of emptiness and boredom typical of the Millennial generation. Even the videos take on that necessary gloss needed for heavy rotation on the main music channels: the video for "12:51", for instance, directed by Roman Coppola, brother of Sofia, and inspired by the computer graphics of Tron.
A gloss that was hard to avoid, once the five Strokes' faces had started appearing not only on the covers of music magazines, but also in the tabloids (Moretti was dating Drew Barrymore, Casablancas had a surname too tantalizing not to be chased down everywhere), and which explodes once more in the video chosen for the release of "Reptilia", the second single from Room On Fire, whose distinctive guitar riff would even be used by MTV as the intro to promos on the Brand:New channel. Just a playback, the band playing, the camera lingering on Casablancas's gold watch and white loafers, on Hammond Jr's sharp suit, on Valensi's perfect haircut. It feels like ages since the mic stand thrown into the air and the cigarette tucked into the neck of the guitar in "Last Nite".

But if, aesthetically, the Strokes' transformation was radical, the same can't be said of the sound of Room on Fire, which never manages to be more than a fair copy of Is This It. The songwriting softens a little, letting the band's undeniable British influences show through more, tempering the taut New York sound of the debut. This is precisely the band's great compositional strength, managing to make the late-'60s atmospheres of the Stooges' "I Wanna Be Your Dog" and the Velvet Underground coexist with the Who and the Rolling Stones too, right down to entrusting the artwork to Peter Phillips, a pioneer of English pop art. The sharp, cutting strokes of punk-garage sit alongside the breezier, more immediate pop of a guitar used in place of a synth, with echoes of Motown surfacing in "Under Control", and the '80s guitar rock of Guns'n'Roses — always cited by every member of the band as a core inspiration — in "Meet Me In The Bathroom".
With Room On Fire, the Strokes position themselves as the re-founders of indie-rock. But sustaining such a self-referential genre for more than two albums isn't easy. "Hold on – I'll be right back" is the farewell delivered in the closing lines of "I Can't Win", a title that would prove not remotely prophetic.

You only live once

At this point the Strokes found themselves at a crossroads: keep following the path traced by the two previous albums, or reinvent themselves? It's well known how hard it is to leave the old road for the new, especially in a case like this: in under four years the Strokes had practically rewritten a genre, becoming global stars and earning the label "saviors of rock and roll". So it's no surprise to find the now-familiar Strokes sound within First Impressions Of Earth: dirty guitars, Casablancas's dirty voice, catchy, immediate songs. The work behind it, though, wasn't as simple as one might imagine: the longtime producer of the first two albums, Gordon Raphael, was first joined by David Kahne and eventually replaced by him, due to incompatibility between the two. Kahne, brought in at Albert Hammond Jr's request, having already worked with Paul McCartney, Sublime and Tony Bennett (with whom he won a Grammy Award), helped "open up" the band's sound more, redefining its details: the clearest example concerns Casablancas's voice, which had never reached listeners' ears so clean before. The album is preceded by the single "Juicebox", a perfect link with the previous Room On Fire; the pulsing bassline, locked in with Moretti's pounding drums, right up to the explosive, liberating scream in the chorus, make things clear right away: there would be no real surprises.
First Impressions Of Earth is built on solid foundations: we've already touched on the rhythm section, and it's enough to extend what was said about the single to the rest of the album. The other key component is the inspired Valensi-Hammond Jr partnership, which often recalls the best moments of the fortunate Is This It; some of the less significant tracks are literally saved by the two guitarists' skill with their instruments. This gives rise to songs that would quickly become classics of the Strokes' catalogue: "You Only Live Once", placed as the opener, instantly reminds everyone what the coolness of a band capable of branding a decade with its own sound looks like. "Juicebox" has already been mentioned, and no less notable is "Heart In A Cage", rounding out the trio of singles, whose opening riff is practically impossible not to recognize, even on a distracted listen. The less frantic moments hold up well too, like the midtempo "Razorblade" or the unexpected "Ask Me Anything", where Casablancas sheds the role of screamer and takes on that of the celebrant, over the distinctive sound of the Mellotron.
Casablancas himself is perhaps the weakest link in the chain at this point: the lyrics aren't especially inspired, and the choice to come close to an hour in length would weigh heavily on the album's reception among critics and audiences. So while tracks like "Electricityscape" or "Vision Of Division" still tickle the palate, only the most devoted listeners might avoid filing certain moments, especially from "Killing Lies" onward, as meaningless filler.

The third album, a classic litmus test for any band, finally pushes the Strokes fully into the mainstream, even though critics give it a fairly lukewarm reception compared to the previous two works. But critics and audiences often don't see eye to eye, and the promotional tour proves a genuine success in terms of numbers, with 2006 becoming the year with the highest number of live shows. Something, however, breaks within the New York machine; the attention on the band wears down its members to the point that, by the end of the year, they announce they want to take an indefinite break.

The Pentagon

The chance to escape the bubble they'd been living in since the now-distant 2001 is seized at once by all five members of the band: between solo work, side projects and collaborations, no one stays idle for long. Each pursues what most fulfills him on a personal level: the most significant work is that of frontman Julian Casablancas, who with his Phrazes For The Young breaks sharply from the sound he had helped create. Not that it's a work of particular standing, but Casablancas's pop turn will heavily influence the band's future choices; the heavy use of synths and certain (un)pleasantly glossy, sticky atmospheres would resurface later.
Despite the pessimistic statements, with Valensi going so far as to say "at this point I don't know if we'll make a fourth record", the band finds itself working on the follow-up to First Impressions Of Earth after more than two years off; it will take just as long before Angles sees the light of day in March 2011.
The "angles" of the title are meant to represent all the facets of the band's members, who for the first time credit the songs as a group rather than individually. Casablancas agrees to cede part of his authorial authority to the group, even though the working method used is hardly ideal, as we'll see. Joe Chiccarelli (Mika, Racounteurs, The Shins) is chosen as producer and dropped shortly after recording begins, since his production style isn't particularly appreciated, and the Strokes complete the album with the help of sound engineer Gus Oberg.
So far this might sound like the normal genesis of any rock record, if not for one decidedly significant detail: Casablancas is practically never in the studio. The singer records his vocal parts at home, then sends them to the other four, who in the meantime keep working as an actual band; needless to say, this does nothing to foster the climate of cohesion and shared purpose that's often at the root of a successful record.

The lead single "Under Cover Of Darkness" is, for many, misleading: have the Strokes finally come to terms with their essence as a guitar band with strong pop leanings? Always present, but cleverly hidden behind their garage imagery, deep down the Strokes have always had the ability to craft lethal singles, sharp and crowd-pleasing at once. Angles marks a turning point for the band, which for the first time genuinely tries to change course, helped along by each member having more say in decisions; the result, however, is fairly disappointing, and it's hard to deny that the strange working method imposed by Casablancas played a part in that.
The attempt feels too scattered to be called fully realized: it ranges from the power-pop of "Two Kind Of Happiness" to the tribal moments of "Machu Pichu", passing through classic-rock episodes like "Gratisfaction", without following any real logical thread. The vintage-nostalgia effect that runs through the whole record grows stronger whenever it turns towards the '80s, whether paying tribute to new wave ("Two Kind Of Happiness") or playing with synths as in "Games". The only moment that vaguely recalls past glories is "Taken For A Fool", written by Valensi, with its catchy, Weezer-esque chorus — not by chance chosen as the second single.

The impression is that not even the band believes much in this record, so much so that over the following two years the group racks up fewer live shows than in 2006 alone. The Strokes' five musical souls have never felt so far apart, between those like Valensi who disagreed with the use of synths and those pushing to experiment. Rumors of a split abound and a new album seems more and more like a pipe dream, but history repeats itself for the New Yorkers too, and in 2013 here they are, back in the spotlight.

The New York machine's decline

Comedown Machine is a product of its time, of the contemporary moment: if in the beginning the Strokes took the zeitgeist and turned it into music, now the process has reversed. The band combs through music looking for whatever is most emblematic of the present, to feed into their creative process, which by now — perhaps — has missed its moment. Produced again by Gus Oberg, it's the last of the five albums owed under their contract with RCA, and comes out on March 26th, after a full streaming preview on Pitchfork. Casablancas falls back into line and records together with the rest of the band, like in the old days.
The results of this tragic reversal are tracks like "Partner In Crime", dangerously close to Phil Collins's "Another Day In Paradise", or the falsettos of "One Way Trigger", the single chosen to precede the album's release and easily mistaken for a Mika song, or "Chances", somewhere between U2 and the Killers — something unimaginable just a few years earlier for a band like Casablancas and co.
Casablancas himself falls victim to this new sound, which exposes all his vocal limitations; Comedown Machine is saved from a collapse of telegraphed riffs and ineffective choruses only by tracks like "All The Time" and "50/50", the only ones comparable to what the Strokes used to be, proof that the band can still hit its best form when it follows its own primal instinct. Conversely, when they go chasing the sound of other bands, the result can't be called satisfying, caught between half missteps and songs lacking bite; so tracks like "Tap Out", with its funk rhythm, and "Welcome To Japan" end up marred by uninspired choruses that undermine their full potential.
This new record leaves a somewhat bitter taste, for what it could have been, for what you can glimpse here and there but that never fully came together; we may be naive, but we like to think the spirit of Is This It is still in there, hidden somewhere. The feeling is that the Strokes still have something to say and that the future might hold new surprises; better to use due caution before writing them off.

A new beginning?

Out of nowhere, with no warning whatsoever, at the end of May 2016 the Strokes release Future Present Past, a three-song EP (plus a remix) on Julian Casablancas's label, Cult Records. It is, the band explains, an intermediate step ahead of — apparently — a new full-length that will arrive further down the line.
With these three new songs, the Strokes seem to want to break the creative stagnation of their recent releases, and to do so they firmly pick back up the pop-rock style of their origins. Whether this EP actually manages to reverse the artistic decline of their last few releases is another matter entirely. More than anything, the evident effort to reclaim the sacred fire of their early days doesn't seem backed up either by the necessary counterweight of inspiration ("Drag Queen", for instance, pales next to the cornerstones of their catalogue, but also next to "merely" a "Machu Picchu", which remains the most underrated chapter in the American band's whole arc), nor by the expressive freshness of the good old days — with the possible exception of "Threat of Joy", an honest hit to enjoy half-asleep on the beach. "OBLIVIUS" itself, whose remix by drummer Fabrizio Moretti closes out the release, plays its cards on the most classic of effective choruses, framed by Julian Casablancas's best vocal performance here, but the interplay of guitars and synths holding up the track is nothing more than yet another rehash of something already heard many times before, and to better effect, a decade or so earlier.
Future Present Past is perhaps a necessary step, but more for the Strokes themselves than for the outside world. It's a bit like opening a book or starting a new story and finding a blank page in front of you. The Strokes have started writing again, and all that's left is to hope the plot turns out more gripping than this bland opening line.

Freshness Regained: The New Abnormal

In the spring of 2020, the New Yorkers make their return, and in grand style too. That the Strokes, by now all pushing forty, would deliver an album as fresh as The New Abnormal would have seemed a long shot even to the most hardened gamblers. So what happened? First of all, it's worth remembering that the quintet's talent was never in question: you don't change the course of a decade of music by accident. Then add the kind of self-awareness that only middle age can bring: we're the Strokes, so let's just be the Strokes, to hell with self-referential evolutions meant to win over critics (who, by the way, were never exactly kind to the New Yorkers). Throw in Rick Rubin too, who when it comes to polishing up faded talent is still a pretty safe bet.
That we'd end up with an album that was, at the very least, interesting became clearer and clearer as the band rolled out the singles that preceded it. First "Bad Decisions", with its sprightly rhythm section and the chemistry between Hammond Jr's and Valensi's guitars as infectious as ever, then the enveloping synths unspooling across the five-plus minutes of "At The Door" (Casablancas's experience with Daft Punk feels crucial on a track like this). Finally, the definitive sign of a comeback worth watching: the joy shouted out from the bridges of New York on "Brooklyn Bridge To Chorus", one of the catchiest songs of the band's entire career.

Another ace is found right at the opening: "The Adults Are Talking". Almost a statement of purpose, with the two guitars inviting in a synthesizer for a ménage à trois of layering and shifting tones. Here and elsewhere, the fabric of The New Abnormal is more complex and dynamic than the five of them had usually accustomed us to, mostly thanks to the arsenal of vintage keyboards called into service ("Why Are Sundays So Depressing", "Selfless", "Ode To The Mets"). And how much fun Julian clearly had, often straying from his proverbial drawl — which still suits the unprecedented midlife cynicism scattered through the lyrics — to dive into adventurous falsettos. As on the torrid, gorgeous "Eternal Summer", a magnificent homage to the radio rock of yesteryear.
Nine tracks, forty-five minutes. Something does falter a bit toward the end, with three songs that feel a touch heavy and could have used some trimming. Not that any of them should be cut entirely, though, since each delivers at least one detail or flash of irresistible coolness — with honorable mention going to "Ode To The Mets", dedicated to Casablancas's beloved baseball team. Extra half point for the timing. Because The New Abnormal is the album that the Strokes, we, and their New York needed right at that moment. A breath of fresh air.

Once the pandemic-related restrictions had passed, in 2022 the Strokes embarked on a tour that saw them headline many of the world's most prestigious music festivals. Thrust back into the media spotlight by the documentary "Meet Me In the Bathroom", in February 2023 they released The Singles – Volume 01, a boxset containing vinyl reissues of the ten singles drawn from their first three albums.
Using the same artwork as the original releases, "The Modern Age", "Hard To Explain", "Last Nite", "Someday", "12:51", "Reptilia", "The End Has No End", "Juicebox", "Heart In A Cage" and "You Only Live Once" are given new life, along with all their precious respective b-sides, among which at least "Mercy Mercy Me" deserves a mention — a cover of the great Marvin Gaye hit recorded with contributions from Eddie Vedder and Josh Homme — as well as the intriguing demo version of "You Only Live Once", provisionally titled "I'll Try Anything Once".

The following album, Reality Awaits (2026), on the other hand, doesn't seem interested in following any particular path. It's a messy, chaotic record, one that starts one way and ends another, taking a couple of detours in between.
It opens with "Psycho Shit", a vaguely psychedelic track with guitars that heat up as the minutes pass, and Casablancas delivering an unusually political tirade for him. By the cathartic ending, Julian has, cryptically, taken aim at everyone: wars, capitalism, dehumanization.
After a fiery ending like that of "Psycho Shit", the midtempo "Dine N' Dash" almost comes across as an anticlimax; then again, it steers the lyrics toward a more melancholic, inward-looking place, as does "Lonely In The Future". The latter is the track on the record closest to their early nu-garage sound; however, it's more memorable for its spiteful dissing of Fantano than for musical reasons. "Going To Babble On" and "Going Shopping", meanwhile, form the album's feel-good center, and musically speaking are the only two tracks that would have made sense on the band's superb previous record.
Then there's the autotune, an essential element of the album and, above all, of its final stretch. Like any tool, when used as a core, constitutive element of a style, it can be necessary. Otherwise, it's superfluous. On Reality Awaits the processor is everywhere; sometimes to good effect, sometimes less so. It makes, for instance, "Falling Out Of Love" one of the band's most languid and successful romantic ballads, with Casablancas, amid flourishes of lunar guitar, singing a serenade with the voice of a lovestruck little robot running out of batteries. But above all, it gives the closing "The Fruits Of Conquest" and "Tyrants Of The Mellow Moon" an irresistible retro-futuristic mood that closely recalls the immortal "Instant Crush" by Daft Punk (featuring Casablancas on vocals).
Reality Awaits isn't a record we'll remember among the band's best, nor as the home of some future setlist staple hit. The band's seventh album is an experiment, a couldn't-care-less act of creative freedom. A maze leading to nowhere, hard to decipher, full of surprises, a few missteps, and a handful of dazzling moments.

Contributions by Fabio Guastalla ("Future Present Past"), Michele Corrado ("The New Abnormal", "Reality Awaits"), Claudio Lancia ("The Singles-Volume 01")

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