For four agonizing years, The Strokes were driven into exile. Not by fiery protests and broken pharmacy windows, rather by the emerging ideas of today's dim music scene. The five men from Manhattan did not want to be part of such a bland concept, so they dispersed from the public's eye to regroup and revitalize their ideas. The band members-turned-brothers seperated, almost all of which pursuing side careers, except for one Mr. Casablancas: the mind, voice and soul behind The Strokes' near domination of the music world in 2001. And as of November 2, 2009, Julian Casablancas has returned blasting to the forefront of the musical outersphere with Phrazes For The Young.
At eight songs in length, this solo album appears as just a footnote between larger projects, but it surprises us with incredible diversity and explores twenty songs' worth of ideas, rhythms, and effects. We'd expect nothing less from Casablancas, the musical perfectionist. The cavalcade of synthesizers, muted guitars and multi-faceted drum tracks, paired with his soulful, piercing voice is a voyage across the cityscapes of Casablancas' mind. For fourty minutes, you become encased in his lyrics that are filled with regret, pain, euphoric pleasure and the demise of the Native American tribes of modern-day New York City. And after the fourtieth minute ticks away, you are left feeling the reverberations of Julian's sublime song-writing.
I believe that Julian's surname is rather fitting to his career, because Casablancas' brainchild, Phrazes For The Young, is enshrined in a rhythmic institution of the purest white. You can see how distinguished the musical face of the album is: flawless structure, unblemished exterior, and a slight but charming overbite of sadness. How did I cope being in this era sans The Strokes? I do not know, and that is a question I no longer have to think about.
No comments:
Post a Comment