Interpol have managed to survive the early noughties American explosion better than most and have arguably flourished without Carlos D; one could argue that, whilst adding coolness and X factor, he was often a sideshow that distracted from the main event.
Their sixth album Marauder offers full closure from the split and demonstrates a band now comfortable to express themselves more succinctly.
Opening proceedings, If You Really Love Nothing gallops along with a melancholic rhythm which befits the title of the album. A mid-paced number, it recalls mid-period Kings Of Leon before fame and fortune consumed their creativity.
You should all know The Rover by now, built around a chiming riff it’s frenetic, vital and a perfect pop song. It builds, but in a subtle way, little details being added as the song progresses; more drive to the rhythm guitar on the second verse, the ‘uhs’ before the second and preceding choruses, the drum fills becoming busier and lastly the pace ever so slightly quickening for the final chorus. For a band perennially associated with darkness, to have released the song of the summer is quite a feat.
Complications has a fuller sound than normal, the chorus rolling around this seesaw of a song with noticeably fluctuating melody and bass, meanwhile Flight Of Fancy has next single written all over it. The chorus is a little more optimistic than its surrounding and the outro is cut criminally short – one imagines it was the unfortunate victim of some serious editing. Indeed, Marauder has many contenders for singles, in particular Mountain Child which recalls their finest hour, Slow Hands, the chorus upping the stakes significantly from the verse to be a defiant, sky-kissing beauty.
Interpol’s secret weapon has always been drummer Sam Fogarino. Secret no more; Stay In Touch opens with a classic Interpol riff but is a slow, brooding beast before Fogarino takes centre stage as the song winds down, veering into jazz territory with his free-form drumming. Throughout the whole album the hi-hat gets put through its paces, and it’s no surprise to learn that he broke a kick drum due to such heavy hitting during recording. Never at less than 100%, the drums are the backbone of the album.
That said, there isn’t a huge amount of variation from their traditional formula of chiming licks, pronounced bass and an overall dread-laden, claustrophobic air. At one point, it works against the band in the most ironic way; we all know the influence Interpol had on Editors, but on NYSMAW things come full circle. Paul Banks’ resemblance to Tom Smith’s vocals is uncanny, right down to his intonation on the higher notes. It’s one of two or three tracks that could have been jettisoned.
However, the most indispensable tracks are the interludes. Arguably the best songs on the album (this is not meant as a dis-service), they both act as tent poles for the rest and add a cinematic atmosphere that foreshadows the coming winter months, almost disconcertingly so. On Interlude 1 you can almost see the breath in the air.
The highlight, though, has to be the aptly named Number 10. With a great opening 50 seconds that evokes The Edge’s stadium-filling riffs, it explodes into life with a deftness of touch (by their standards) that is missing from the rest of the album. Well, apart from closing track It Probably Matters, which feels like the first ray of sunrise, Banks yearning to be ‘on the beach with my friends’. After a sometimes intense listening experience, its optimism offers promise for the future.
More than most, Interpol generate a feeling. It’s probably closest to what we know as anxiety, fuelled as it is by self-doubt but also dichotomised with righteousness.
Marauder is a perfect honing of this trademark sound, but with added aplomb.
