If the strokes were the perfect embodiment of New York City’s stylish, debauched nightlife, then Interpol symbolised the walk home alone in the early hours. The cold chill in the air, the reflections of neon signs in puddles, steely skyscrapers – a lonely yet glamorous existence. But it’s been a while since Interpol encapsulated this melancholic romance. Recent albums, ‘Interpol’ and ‘El Pintor’ felt like they were constructed in a dark bunker, miles below NYC’s surface. Crushing misery was always part of the bargain, but never from so close a range, and never in such dull terms.
Order is restored in surprising ways on ‘Marauder’ where dark themes are explored with unexpected attitude and sharp humour. In contrast to their classic debut, where riffs and melodies jutted out at right angles, there is a machine gun fire dynamism to everything on ‘Marauder’. Even the slow songs have a sharpness. The opening trio, ‘If You Really Love Nothing’, ‘The Rover’ and ‘Complications’ are almost Ramonic in their forward momentum – if not quite their melodic ingenuity.
But to the disservice of his newly energised band, Paul Banks continues to drown his songs in faux-profundity. occasionally he aims clumsily at such odd targets that you wonder if he ever had the insight that brooding classics like ‘Untitled’ and ‘Obstacle 1’ suggested. ‘If you really love nothing, on what future do we build illusions?’ He mysteriously muses on the opening track. It’s nowhere near as smart as Banks thinks it is. And look, if you have any desire to know what he means by ‘prostrated faded’ then he’s written paragraphs on the subject over at Genius.com. Knock yourself out. Needless to say, he’s very preoccupied with shadowy ‘cult guys’ and ‘pseudo spiritualism’.
But that’s not the crux of ‘Marauder’. In fact, in the correct setting, some of these lyrics roar to life – once Bank’s distinctive baritone wraps menacingly around them. At points, such is his conviction, you become almost convinced that he’s a deceptive genius. It helps immensely that his band are behind him, urging him forward. Legendary producer Dave Friedman has captured Interpol’s live sound straight to tape, and the record gains something vital as a result. Scrappy guitar lines, distortion, dials turned up to ten and given a heated mix – it creates a frazzling sound alright. But after the funeral atmosphere of their previous three albums, the intensity and passion is a welcome surprise. That the album doesn’t manage to sustain that intensity for 45 minutes, is not so much of a surprise. The back half is podgy and forgettable. Nonetheless, ‘Marauder’ should be celebrated as more than the successful Comeback it is – it’s one of the best things Interpol have ever done. Period.
7/10