The Strokes, man. Weren’t they, like, totally awesome? Didn’t they look like the real deal, like the coolest people you know, like disheveled art school kids from a New York loft wearing leather jackets, skinny jeans, and with cigarettes dangling from their mouths? Didn’t they, like, reinvent indie rock music, just when it appeared to be on its last legs, and do things with a guitar that no one had before, at least not since John Cale?
The answer to all of these questions is “no” and “go fuck yourself”, but nonetheless, to a particular breed of rock music critic at the turn of the twenty-first century, the Strokes appeared as the very embodiment of urban, youthful cool, peddling a stripped back, almost basic guitar sound that struck many as revolutionary, or at least refreshing, given the profusion of bloated and overcooked cocaine records that appeared toward the end of the 90s, to say nothing of the baleful and primitive spectre of Nu Metal. And maybe, in that particular context, the Strokes were indeed a breath of fresh air. But I remember being distinctly unimpressed upon listening to their album for the first time in 2002, and I remain somewhat underwhelmed this day, though I can now better understand the album’s appeal.
As mentioned, the sound is basic, minimalist rock, almost childlike in its spartan simplicity, as if Julian Casablancas had first picked up a guitar about two weeks before writing the album. The influences aren’t hard to place; it’s an – at times, almost copywrite-infringing – conjuring of the throbbing, driving art rock of the Velvet Underground, occasionally veering into more raucous, Pixies- or Ramones-style punk. There are minimal chord changes, and the same guitar sound chugs throughout the album’s entire 35-minute duration, with only the occasional solo to break the unrelenting pall. No song is longer than three and a half minutes, and every single one sounds broadly similar, which I suppose could be taken as a welcome indicator of the album’s musical coherence.
But maybe the most notable sonic feature of Is This It? are the vocals, because Julian sounds like he’s singing through a biscuit tin into a 5-dollar microphone. Of course, this was a deliberate choice, because it contributed to the air of detached, slightly inebriated coolness that the Strokes were aiming for, a combination of punk’s ramshackle authenticity and studied art school indifference.
For the most part, the album’s lyrics are indecipherable due to the heavily compressed vocals but, if you take the trouble to look them up, you’ll quickly see that they too are trendily detached and shambolic. They mostly comprise half-formed, dreamlike snapshots of the kind of conversations and romantic fiascos that presumably speckled the ennui-drenched lives of trendier-than-thou bourgeois teenagers in the global conurbations of the West at the turn of the century, an endless stream of loft parties, breakups, casual sex, irony, and fleeting, superficial relationships, all filtered through an addled, consciousness dulling conduit of drink and drugs.
As much as I’d like to, I cannot deny that, taken together, the stripped-down musical style, distorted vocals, and opaquely ironic and hedonistic lyrics effectively conjure a particular mood, a particular frame of mind, a particular time and place. But it’s hard to escape the impression that, alongside the Strokes’ emaciated, doe eyed, drunkenly cool white boys-in-leather jackets look, Is This It? was but one important component of an overall product, a theatrical performance designed to sell a particular identity and lifestyle.
Maybe all rock music ultimately fits that description, but in this case, the final product doesn’t quite stand the test of time. There are some good songs here, especially the frantic and propulsive “Modern Age” and the breezily nostalgic “Someday”, but ultimately, it’s hard to escape the nagging feeling that Is This It? was the ultimate triumph of style over substance, making the titular question a fitting one, though perhaps not in the way the band intended.
Overall rating: * * *
Standout track: “The Modern Age”