It does sound very good on headphones.

Given the hype and almost desperate desire that has greeted this album, I guess that a high fidelity high five will be seen as a lukewarm response to the most eagerly anticipated release of the autumn; but, then again, it could be said that there was absolutely no way that the Strokes could top their debut, Is This It. Certainly, the lead singer Julian Casablancas’s cry of “I want to be forgotten” on Room on Fire’s excellent lead track, Whatever Happened, sounds either panicky or disingenuous. The beautiful young chap pleading for anonymity? After all the breathless adulation offered to his band’s first record? It smacks of forced hysteria.

Perhaps, and with the Strokes this suggestion is often seen as blasphemy of the highest order, Is This It, missing question mark and all, was slightly over-rated. It did offer an update on the Velvet Underground/Television/Blondie New York art-pop template, but it was altogether too insubstantial and knowing. Its brief flashes of brilliance, such as the magnificent Last Night, did burn brightly but the prevalent influences on the best tracks were British. Last Night, after all, did sound like a great lost Smiths song.

Their too-cool-for-words pedigree grated somewhat too — was this conglomerate of scruffily gorgeous New York scenesters a real band or some angular guitar pop confection forced upon us by a music business insider? The truth is that the Strokes have always been much more than five louche pop wannabes — they have worked hard to become the hippest band in the world. They hung out at cool bars, for sure, but they also rehearsed for up to ten hours a day and would spend much of their spare time producing and handing out flyers for their gigs.

So, after their much-lauded debut, how have they dealt with the pressure to produce the goods a second time round? Quite admirably, in fact. There’s more meat on the bones this time. The songs are less spindly, less like new-born giraffes. Don’t worry, though, the guitars are still nervous and skittish, the drums rattle satisfactorily, and the bass leads proceedings with firm authority.

The songs are far stronger, however. Though there’s nothing in the league of Last Night, there’s little padding here. The single 12:51 is brittle but fantastic, Whatever Happened, the first track, muscular and anthemic, and Under Control hugely reminiscent of the soulful but missing-in-action Brit- poppers, Gene.

But I do have to return to the headphones issue. Casablancas’s raspy roar is far too low in the mix to be heard clearly on anything other than decent headphones. On several tracks Casablancas sounds as though he’s added his vocals to the often brilliant songs from a studio three blocks away, and as such his voice becomes just another instrument rather than the focal point of the album. Which is a shame, because a set of songs as strong as this deserved more. 3/5

Paul Connolly

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