Perhaps I have softened in my old age. I still stand by the adage that if you tossed a handful of Joy Division songs and a handful of Interpol songs in a burlap sack, shook it, and listened to said tracks in the random order you remove them, it would be difficult to tell one band from the other (I suppose you could also make a random mix of the two bands on iTunes by utilizing the shuffle option and setting specific parameters). However, the more Pitchfork turns its back on the band it once heralded as "incredibly powerful and affecting," I find myself developing a peculiar (yet still fairly small) fondness for INTRPL, OMG, NYC.
Interpol vocalist Paul Banks, one of the dreariest sounding men in modern rock, has released, yes, you guessed it, a self-indulgent solo album. What makes it self-indulgent? Well, for a start, it's not too far off musically from anything from Interpol's catalogue. So, why put out a solo album at all? The inclusion of nonsensical foreign-tongued rambling on closing track "H" is an attempt by Banks to disguise a brain fart as avant-garde dabbling and ultimately feels forced and, yes, self-indulgent. Another aspect of this album that points towards self-indulgence is the fact that Banks adopts a somewhat Eurocentric and off-puttingly punny pseudonym under which to release the album: Julian Plenti. Har har har. Despite adopting this pseudonym, Banks has made no effort to conceal the fact that it is an album by the lead singer of Interpol. He is in full view on the cover, all the press regarding the album has been sure to mention that he is the lead singer of Interpol, and, in case I have yet to mention it, the album sounds like Interpol. Or Joy Division. Or both.
What really eats at me about this album is that, gasp!, I kind of like it. With the exception of a few excruciatingly banal tracks, like "Girl On The Sporting News," it is a fine collection of sombre post-punk tracks. A good listen on a Sunday evening as you sip a glass of scotch and bemoan the dampness of your parents' basement. Yes, Banks channels Ian Curtis to the point that sometimes I think he believes he is Ian Curtis, but he does it so damn well.
