By admin 
HangupsMusic.com – New York, NY – In the year 2026, The Strokes find themselves in an enviable position, their cultural cachet arguably loftier than at any point in the last two decades. The buzz surrounding the quintet is palpable, eclipsing even their standing in 2016, and perhaps even rivalling the zeitgeist-defining heights of 2006. This year marks a significant milestone: the 25th anniversary of their seminal debut, Is This It?, an album that not only solidified their status as indie rock darlings but also became a foundational text for a generation of musicians and fans alike. Their recent, much-heralded tour—their first extensive run in two decades—saw them command stages before a diverse, multi-generational audience, a mosaic of "young olds" reminiscing about their early 2000s glory days and "old youngs" discovering the raw, urban charm of their sound anew.
Yet, this renewed prominence isn’t merely a byproduct of nostalgic sentimentality. While the memory of their early work undoubtedly plays a part, The Strokes have demonstrated a remarkable capacity for continued relevance. Their previous album, 2020’s The New Abnormal, though released amidst the disorienting haze of a global pandemic, managed to carve out its own distinct space. Its standout track, "The Adults Are Talking," has astonishingly accumulated as many Spotify streams as their early anthem "Last Nite," a testament to its enduring appeal and cross-generational resonance. Furthermore, the pervasive influence of The Strokes continues to ripple through the contemporary music landscape, evident in bands like Geese, widely recognized as the torchbearers of the "post-post-Strokes" sound, even if their members were in diapers when Julian Casablancas, Albert Hammond Jr., Fabrizio Moretti, Nick Valensi, and Nikolai Fraiture first took the world by storm. This isn’t merely a legacy; it’s a living, breathing influence, propelling them confidently into their second quarter-century as a band.
The anticipation for new material from The Strokes is immense, with countless fans yearning for fresh "bangers" that capture the raw energy and understated cool of their past. Indeed, a recent headline in The Irish Times pondered aloud, "Can Julian Casablancas and the Strokes Really Save Rock & Roll?" It’s a weighty question, one that speaks to the enduring hope placed upon this iconic group. However, a deep dive into their seventh studio album, Reality Awaits, suggests that the band itself approaches such grand propositions with a certain theoretical detachment. The record itself is a fascinating, often bewildering, and sometimes outright peculiar addition to The Strokes’ already eclectic narrative. It’s an album that oscillates between moments of undeniable brilliance and stretches of profound artistic indulgence, demanding patience and an open mind from its listeners.
Julian Casablancas, known for his increasingly vocal political convictions, channels his fervent left-leaning perspectives into the album’s lyrical core. While his social commentary may not always coalesce into a perfectly linear narrative, its impact is undeniable, particularly when fused with the band’s signature "Strokes-core" sound. On "Going Shopping," for instance, drummer Fab Moretti lays down a precisely clipped, propulsive beat, providing the rhythmic backbone for Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond Jr. to weave a tapestry of intricate, Television-esque guitar interplay. Over this familiar yet fresh sonic landscape, Casablancas delivers pointed socio-political critiques with characteristic nonchalance. Lines like "Solidarity can be difficult when you’ve got cool stuff to lose" and "We’re building castles from the bones of dead trees" paint a vivid picture of consumerism and environmental apathy. The song’s protagonist, torn between the desire to flee urban disillusionment for rural solace, ultimately succumbs to boredom and returns to the city’s familiar chaos—a narrative beat that feels perfectly in character for a frontman entering his late forties, still grappling with the complexities of modern existence. Despite seemingly nonsensical interjections, such as the surreal wish to "be a seven-foot starfish," the track resonates with an unexpected depth.
Another standout, "Going to Babble On," sees Casablancas’s signature plaintive wail lamenting the relentless pace of contemporary life, carried atop a neo-New Wave sonic palette that The Strokes execute with unparalleled mastery. The track culminates in a spiraling, almost theatrical guitar solo, imbued with an undeniable eighties flair. "Lonely in the Future" opens with a grimy, hard-rock riff, serving as an aging cool kid’s sardonic commentary on the hyper-connected, "totally-online" generation. Casablancas takes aim at specific cultural figures, casting a skeptical eye towards adherents of political commentator Chris Hedges and online music reviewer Anthony Fantano—a surprising, yet undeniably Strokes-ian, lyrical quirk. Remarkably, despite its specific targets and underlying social critique, the song is so infectious and energetically delivered that it almost masks its deeper meaning, passing by as just another catchy rocker about youthful exploits and endless nights.
However, Reality Awaits is not without its moments of significant artistic departure, where Casablancas’s myriad indulgences and idiosyncratic leanings occasionally steer the album into more challenging, even abstruse territory. These instances often feel like deliberate attempts to bridge the gap between The Strokes’ established sound and the more experimental, art-pop leanings of his other project, The Voidz. The album opener, "Psycho Shit," is a prime example. Here, Casablancas delves into themes of predatory violence, with clear allusions to the ongoing conflict in Gaza and broader corporate imperialism. Musically, the track meanders, building through a grinding, almost industrial texture towards a diffuse, somewhat unresolved combustion. It’s a bold statement, but one that might test the patience of listeners expecting the band’s more immediate gratification.
Then there’s "Liar’s Remorse," a track that stands out for its sheer peculiarity and, frankly, its lack of appeal. Casablancas adopts an unexpected Caribbean lilt, delivering what can only be described as an emulsified swing ballad. Following a trumpet solo—heavily processed through effects pedals, naturally—he inexplicably interjects with the command, "Harmonic minor!" These surprising vocal flourishes are a recurring motif throughout Reality Awaits. On "Falling Out of Love," Casablancas channels the gravelly, intimate low talk reminiscent of Leonard Cohen. Meanwhile, over the shimmering, Cure/New Order-esque guitars of the otherwise delightful "Dine And Dash," he inexplicably adopts an English accent, conjuring images of Christopher Guest’s Nigel Tufnel from Spinal Tap.
The pervasive use of vocal processing across the album becomes particularly noticeable, and at times grating, on the slower tracks. What might have been intended as a dreamy, detached elegance often devolves into something less captivating, undermining the inherent beauty of the compositions. "The Fruits of Conquest" initially offers a compelling, open-shirted swagger reminiscent of The Rolling Stones, but Casablancas’s "disco-Dracula" vocal affectation ultimately detracts from its potential, turning a promising track into a moment of unintentional slapstick.
In reflecting on The New Abnormal, one recalls that album’s willingness to wander into similarly quirky musical cul-de-sacs. Yet, The New Abnormal also delivered moments of profound emotional resonance and lyrical insight, such as "Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus" and "Ode to the Mets." These tracks offered surreal, introspective reflections on their status as New York rock icons, imbuing the album with a relatable sense of a "long, strange trip." In contrast, the less "musically grabby" moments on Reality Awaits feel more insular, almost ostentatious in their deliberate weirdness. Despite comprising only nine songs, the album paradoxically feels longer than its runtime suggests, a consequence of its winding, sometimes frustrating, journey.
The album culminates with "Tyrants of the Mellow Moon," a moody, epic track crowned by a sprawling, "laser-prog" guitar solo. The song offers an oblique echo of the desultory wooziness that characterized The Strokes’ early sound—a feeling that once perfectly encapsulated leather-jacketed ragamuffins stumbling into a cab, headed for the next clandestine bar. It’s a melancholic reflection on youth and change, acknowledging that perpetual stasis is neither possible nor desirable. However, where previous albums grounded their explorations in a recognizable, albeit stylized, reality, Reality Awaits sometimes feels less like an evolution and more like a deliberate push towards the precipice, threatening to tumble off the very edge of reality itself. It’s an album that solidifies The Strokes’ position as a band unafraid to challenge expectations, even if it means alienating some listeners along the way, ultimately cementing their legacy as one of modern rock’s most enduringly enigmatic acts.
