Interpol - Antics (2004)

Shortly after the release of the Streets' debut album Mike Skinner was asked about how he was faring writing his second album. His response was along the lines of ''it’s taken me all my life to write the songs for my first album; how can you expect me to repeat that in such a short space of time?''. A reasonable reaction, and one that goes some way to explaining the cliché that is the sophomore slump, though in Skinner’s case, I suspect he may have been overplaying his concern; it’s difficult to imagine anyone sweating over time restraints when they could deliver something as assured and cohesive as ‘A Grand Don’t Come For Free’ within two years. The same two years separate Interpol’s Antics from it’s older brother ‘Turn on the Bright Lights’, perhaps the only other debut of 2002 that matched the rapturous reception received by the Streets that year. This was a album of heartache and isolation, that could have you strutting to the stabbing guitars of Obstacle 1, and the next minute leave you breathless in the face of NYC’s cinematic slow-motion. ‘Antics’ arrival was met with a level of expectation no band should be burdened with. That’s the price, I guess, of putting your best foot forward, for leaving the starting blocks in a sprint. (God help The Arcade Fire.)

Hats off, then, to Interpol for keeping up the pace. They haven’t forayed far off the course they started on, but seem to have settled into a stride, or at least a more defined sound on ‘Antics’. Take ‘Evil’, two tracks in, that combines the elementary ingredients of a four-piece band to satisfying effect. It starts with a simple repeated Carlos D bass riff and adds Paul Banks’ distinctive low voice, now clearer than before and not buried deep in the mix, and then a basic drum beat. Unfussy, uncomplicated, the barre chords punch in at the bridge and do the dirty work at the chorus. There is little else, save for some piano notes that collide with the learner-friendly guitar solo. This may sound sparse, but the production is full-sounding, solid and weighty. It also may sound charmlessly efficient, but the key here is that this is simply a great tune, it carries the whole song effortlessly, and can hold its own without adding layers of strings or synthesizers, or going overboard on the reverb pedals. The prototype was the uncluttered ‘Leif Erickson’, one of the later tunes penned for ‘Turn on the Bright Lights’, but now less somber, more playful. The ‘Marquee Moon’ trick of holding back just about everything else during the guitar break could become an Interpol trademark on the back of this record, but the real upgrade is that at least half the songs here have a chorus you can dance to, in the case of ‘Evil’, like a possessed puppet. ‘I spent a life with no cellmate’ is a moving line, but it will get your feet moving too. ‘Evil’ is unstoppable, at once anguished and angry, not a crease in the suit, not a hair out of place. Really though, really, they should have called it ‘Rosemary’.

Several of the songs on ‘Antics’ follow this template plus-or-minus – ‘Narc’, ‘Slow Hands’, ‘Length of Love’, and Interpol’s poppiest moment to date ‘C’mere’, are churned out as if writing great tunes came effortlessly. ‘Take You on a Cruise’ slows the proceedings with some haunting, droning guitars, by turns tender (‘Baby it will be alright’) and thunderous (‘I am a scavenger between the sheets of union’). The real tour-de-force is the monolithic ‘Not Even Jail’, which starts with an almighty bang and proceeds to pound its way through five mirror-smashing minutes of intense, insistent guitars, then leaving a stunning two-string guitar break to fade out. Here’s a thing though: at times Interpol’s sound communicates more to the listener than the lyrics themselves. The frustration is palpable as Banks’ pleads ‘Can’t you feel the warmth of my sincerity?’ but there are times when the message is less clear. Okay, so ‘I’m subtle like a lion’s cage’ may hint at unvented anger, but really what he means by ‘I will bounce you on the lap of silence’ is quite beyond me. This was also a symptom of ‘Turn on the Bright Lights’. Songs are dotted with evocative snippets of loneliness and despair (‘Can’t you see what you’ve done to my heart and soul? This is a wasteland now’) but the tendency is towards the obscure and unfathomable, bordering on meaningless, with words seemingly randomly juxtaposed. ‘Combat salacious removal’, anyone? How can you explain following the lucid, literate ‘Now seasoned with health, two lovers walk a lakeside mile’ with the unintelligible ‘Try pleasing with stealth, rodeo…’ except to say they were looking for a rhyme? And don’t get me started on ‘I’m timeless like a broken watch.’

The music, however, compensates with yards to spare. On ‘Antics’, Interpol have come closer to a sound that is identifiably their own, distancing themselves from comparisons with that band. The shift between where they’ve come from and where they are is made apparent with the closing track ‘A Time To Be So Small, which takes a backward step to the brooding ‘Turn on the Bright Lights’, the mood gloomy, the vocals buried, the lyrics macabre. They’ve followed up an exquisitely atmospheric debut with a collection of tuneful, energetic songs. So perhaps this means the expectation will be compounded come their next release. But hey, who’s on trial?

Rating: 8/10

Tony Kelleher

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