(Matador)
Interpol's 2002 masterstroke Turn On the Bright Lights was an exercise in channeling influential bands such as Joy Division, The Church and Echo & The Bunnymen into its own brand of intricate, atmospheric work of brooding melancholia. The compositional genius was apparent in spite of the broad references to U.K. post-punk luminaries. Cursed with the task of finding its own identity and following up its debut, Interpol took to the road and honed its musical skills. Retiring to its studio, the four New Yorkers incorporated each other's strengths into a surprisingly cohesive record.
With Antics, gone are the layers of guitar chorus and delay, as well as the buried vocals, revealing a more polished presentation. Paul Banks' voice is wrought with pain and urgency, and his range seems to have only increased after extensive touring. This newfound confidence shows through the album. Whereas instruments dominated its debut, Banks' vocals move to the forefront on Antics.
As with Bright Lights, the bass and drums generate the oft-mechanical and pulsating rhythms that have come to typify the Interpol sound. Indeed, the tight rhythmic interplay between drummer Sam Fogarino and bassist Carlos Dangler sets the emotional foundation for each song. The beauty of Bright Lights was the dense, shimmering atmospherics of Daniel Kessler's guitar work. While none of this beauty completely disappears on Antics, Kessler's playing is certainly more mathematical and crisp, alternating effortlessly between repetitive, pulsating overtures and neo-shoegazing white noise.
Upon first listen, Antics hardly seems to be a sprawling masterpiece, but its veiled subtle beauty emerges only after extended listening. The tone of the record is set by the first track \Next Exit,"" a hypnotic epic dominated by beautiful organ, piano and keyboard melodies.
Banks' opening, ""We're not going to town/ We're going to the city,"" etches its way into listeners' minds just as Bright Light's opening vocals did. Kessler's guitar is skeletal, but in a beautiful sort of way. ""Narc"" contains a chorus of noise that is somewhat reminiscent of ""Stella Was a Diver..."" but like the rest of Antics, the determined repetitiveness of Kessler's guitar (during the verses) rescues the song from sounding too familiar.
Antics is not without its weaknesses though; and no better example of this can be found than in the lyrics.
One of the more cringe-inducing moments on this record is when Banks proclaims, ""Time is a broken watch/ I make money like Fred Astaire."" Nevertheless, the song is saved from the dregs by the pure expansive force of the music and Banks' delivery.
But all in all the album works. ""Not Even Jail"" is fine example of the ethereal energy that Interpol always displays, as the rhythm section sets the tempo through which Kessler and Banks lay down its respective guitar melodies. The tempo of ""Public Pervert"" builds slowly to a crescendo, decays and then repeats, and the guitars are reminiscent of Joey Santiago's work with the Pixies. The closing track, ""A Time To Be So Small,"" ventures into the territory of balladry; but again, the strength of the rhythm section, guitars, keyboards and organ lead the song into a more avant-noise direction.
While Antics might not have lived up to the great expectations placed on it, it is a solid sophomore effort from a band with considerable potential.
