The indie rock myth is that all of this stuff is boring. It's pretentious jerks trying to play as little, say as little and take as much credit as possible for doing so. Droning ambience is considered melody; apathy is called experimentation.
This week's perpetuator of the myth is Interpol.
Interpol's new self-titled effort is anything but a work to be proud of. If you have trouble locating the album in your local record store, it's not because the digital convergence is finally complete; it's because Interpol is busy auditioning for the sought-after title of Indie Rock Myth Poster Boy.
And the New York kid has a fighting chance because he's got it all. Dull, drawn-out arrangements, compressed melodic ranges and exhausted themes. Before titling a song Always Malaise
the band should've had the foresight to not invite comparison to the status quo of their songwriting.
In a predicament such as that, it's tough to decide what is the saddest.
Perhaps it's the often-seen, always-haunting notion of the dismal evolution, the fade- away. An artist starts out with a bang but is never able to summon its former glory.
Interpol's debut, Turn On The Bright Lights, is beautiful. The band classified feelings towards its hometown, purged stories about falling in love with hoodrats and guiltily admitted responsibility for its own despondency to the gratification of us all. And they did so with vigor.
Interpol tortured itself to amuse us. But the moment that the organ stopped humming would mark the beginning of the end. Although the descent didn't gain full force until after 2004's Antics, the difference is audible this time.
Although this process is always painful, Interpol's case might have an even more miserable component.
It's hard to predict exactly what Joy Division would've sounded like had it got its deserved run. Had Ian Curtis not taken his own life in 1980, there's still a chance Joy Division would've ended up sounding like its reincarnation, New Order. There's also a chance they would've ended up sounding exactly like Interpol.
Surely, any fan of Turn On The Bright Lights was able to hear the way in which Paul Banks and Co. were able to summon the unbridled depression heard on Unknown Pleasures and Closer. Once upon a time, Interpol was able to channel a feeling that we've only briefly heard since Joy Division's disbandment. In this regard, seeing Interpol's descent is not just upsetting from a current, human perspective, but even more painful because of nostalgia now lost.
- Andy Collier is a senior studying audio production and music critic for The Post. E-mail him at ac165406@ohiou.edu 3
Culture
Andy Collier
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