Of all the aspects of the Strokes that the brilliance of their 2001 debut, Is This It, allowed us to overlook, two in particular would come back to bite the New Yorkers and cause retrospective cringing on the part of their fans. The band’s highlighting of just how blurred the line between a cool leather jacket and a sharply drawn song always was exercised all but their most slavish and fashion-vacuous disciples. And, in Julian Casablancas, they possessed a front man who seemed determined to conform to every stereotype about bratty children of privilege. The more the band’s later work sank into rehash and self-parody, the ruder and more contemptuous their main man’s interviews became. As this lovely album reminds you, the Strokes were only ever as good as (and bearable because of) the songs. Phrazes finds a newly sober and apparently chastened Casablancas fizzing with the things, chucking out a succession of insouciant gems as if his muse had never been away. With his wonderfully lugubrious vocals and delicious, born-tunesmith melodies to the fore, songs such as Out of the Blue and 11th Dimension teem with analogue/electro sunlight and shade, while Ludlow Street laments a lost New York with a stuttering country waltz. As an advert for further Strokes albums, Phrazes is scarcely enticing; as a showcase for their singer’s innate, almost casual gift for pop songwriting, this album is a stunner. More, please.

Rough Trade RTRADCD525

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