drunken to love you ep 15It’s not the kind of statement an eighteen year old should ignore. I instantly wanted to know what made this band special. As is the way with hype, I expected to listen, scoff, and dismiss. I went out and bought the single at a time when such an effort was still required to ‘own’ music. ‘Hard to Explain’ backed by ‘New York City Cops’. It took two listens. One to adjust to the quick paced, scratch guitar punk with melodic beauty and attitude. The second to become accustomed to the drawl vocals of Julian Casablancas, lyrics pouring out of him with a ‘couldn’t give a fuck what you think’ delivery.
The Strokes. I’d never heard anything like it. At that age you aren’t as musically enriched as you think. The Ramones might have escaped your research, and ‘Television’ is only something you watch. Oasis were bloating, cocaine indulged and ‘Standing on the Shoulder of Giants’ with ‘Little James’. The Verve had come and gone again all too quickly, whilst the same NME cover also wanted you to be excited about the new Travis album. Driftwood indeed. The Strokes burst through the Limp Bizkit bullshit bravado to awaken music whilst Radiohead had amnesia. They instantly mattered. They still f**kin do.
Such relevance isn’t diluted by their wealthy background band and their music is no less hungry for it. Julian’s father was the founder of Elite model agency, a fact repeatedly slung at the front man during early interviews. In the perfect band model, this was sighted as the chink in their armour. Working class heroes they aren’t, although the silver spoon wasn’t all that polished. “It’s not like we were posh kids who drove fancy cars or anything. You’ve got to have money to live in Manhattan, but we still hung out on the street and drank 40s”.
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