Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 02/01/06
Label: Rough Trade

Four summers ago, The Strokes kicked planet rock's doors off both in their own minds and those of a thirsty UK, drooling at the prospect of some fresh kicks. Your correspondent interviewed the group on the rooftop of a London pub, seconds after they were handed their first NME cover. The stunned ecstasy of these five exotically cool NYC hot-dogs was palpable. However, such a life-altering happening didn't compel Julian Casablancas to hold court like a louche, next generation Iggy Pop that afternoon. Having accidentally neglected to introduce Julian on camera, we presumed he'd either got the hump or, perhaps, simply had nothing to say.

Three albums on and we still know perilously little about Casablancas and, by default, The Strokes. That's not about to change with "First Impressions Of Earth", The Strokes maddening new record, which rockets at light speed through space only to burn-up some distance from home like a disintegrating, spent comet. Leaping from the speakers in a fury of jarring axe steel, clocking rhythmic beats and clinical vocal swagger, ultimately this LP gives itself - at some 60 minutes length - an awful lot of time to say very little.

However, opener "You Only Live Once" is perhaps one of their finest moments, Casablancas dropping a stream of evocative clichés in a casual shrug of Lexington 125 panache. Bringing real verve to his vocals, Julian recalls Razorlight's Johnny Borrell, inevitably emphasising what an abortion they are in comparison. That The Strokes bring this kind of sound with way more style than most of their UK disciples - America has no time for such cardboard box rock - is immediately minted by the brilliant "Juicebox", which swerves from "Batman" to Metallica to Franz Ferdinand in three superdynamic minutes.

The next five tracks all blister the skin. "Razorblade", like "Under Control" on predecessor "Room On Fire", has an insidious lilt, rewriting Barry Manilow's "Mandy" to a lyric driven by Julian's greatest / only literary resource - himself. Elsewhere, "Heart In A Cage" and "Vision Of Division" are desperate, driving steamrollers, highlighting the tight, future punk dexterity of this group, which is worn throughout "First Impressions Of Earth" as if it were a forcefield of invincible strength. Crucially, it's not.

The weirdest moment here - "Ask Me Anything"'s arresting regal organ serenade - also signals not only a fatal midway drop in quality, but also the evident limits of Casablancas. Now often incapable of drawing either iconic drama from The Strokes' drop-dead style and experiences or the blasted teen hedonism of old, we're left with Julian's brutal admission that "I've got nothing to say" and "wish I wasn't so shy". We also get dead in the water lines like "don't be a coconut", while "Fear Of Sleep" relies on his lazy trick of roaring a chorus - "you're no fun" - with gripped gusto ad infinitum.

Meanwhile, with the tearaway thrash of "Ize Of The World", he appears to enter into some sort of confused Manhattan patois. We expect incomplete verses from Pete Doherty. He's a drug addict, apparently. Casablancas, however, who is credited with writing both the lyrics and music for "First Impressions Of Earth", simply must conjure some magic and dirt for his band. Otherwise, as is the case too frequently here, the mechanical sonic electricity of The Strokes becomes numbing and, worse still, boring.

On the drunk yawn of closing track "Red Light" we find Julian bemoaning "an entire generation that has nothing to say". As a key idol for that very generation, he is surely the guiltiest of us all.

    by Ben Gilbert