Interpol, Karen O,Julian Casablancas:What Happened ToIndie Dance?

Three new albums veer away from a
once-thriving scene

There was something happening in 2003.

In the early 2000s, rock became cool again, after the grunge scene breathed its dying breaths and rock-rap fusion acts like Limp Bizkit and Korn fizzled out. DJ’s like Z-Trip, Girl Talk and DJ AM popularized spinning rock in their sets, mashing up classics from AC/DC and Joan Jett with rap vocals from Jay Z and 50 Cent, or simply dropping Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” at peak time. It kind of became the thing to do if you were a DJ at that time.

At the same time, a vibrant counter-culture was developing across the country. In Detroit, stripped down garage bands like The White Stripes and The Von Bondies were emerging, while in NYC promoter/DJ Larry Tee spearheaded the electroclash movement, introducing acts such as Fischerspooner and Scissor Sisters. Around the same time, the post-punk, indie rock movement was exploding in NYC, with several local bands picking up steam—among them Interpol, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and The Strokes.

Things were also happening in my hometown of Las Vegas, at a party called The Get Back that went on downtown every first Friday of the month. Billed as the original “Funky Soul Dance Party,” a DJ named John Doe would gather up his 45 RPM vinyl and spin sets packed with familiar soul samples and funk breaks used on hip-hop classics. The crowd was diverse and without attitude. On any given night you’d see breakdancing b-boys, cooler-than-you hipster chicks, aging gangsters and gleeful gay men dancing together, as this was a party that was accepting and open to all.

The Get Back and its eventual all-indie sister party, Burning Down The House, had a cool that you couldn't bottle and manufacture like they try to do on the Las Vegas Strip. I started spinning at these parties, but wanted to take a different approach than what John and his crew were doing downstairs, and what the more famous DJs were doing at the big casino clubs.

Upstairs, a local DJ named Ryan Pardey had the scenester kids eating out of his hand, based purely on the selections he was playing. Ryan wasn't a technical DJ, he didn't even mix records together. He would just play one song, let it fade out, and then throw the next one in, much like DJs on the radio once did. Sometimes, he'd play a classic like Morrissey’s “Suedehead,” let it fade, and then the audience would clap and cheer. Just before the applause died down, he’d drop Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” and they'd lose their minds.

But what really got people going nuts over Ryan’s sets was that he was playing songs from all these new bands that were emerging at the time. Most of these groups were coming out of the electroclash and NYC indie rock scenes, and many of them had “The” in their name. This prefix was how you could distinguish the cool new bands with the edgy new sound.

The Strokes, The Postal Service, The Hives, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The White Stripes, The Stills. The list goes on.

The sound these bands delivered was uptempo, unapologetically raw, and very danceable. Taking a cue from Ryan, I began to spin tracks from these bands, applying some technical prowess as a hip-hop DJ to the sound. Eventually we both developed our own signature sounds, drawing our own audiences to our individual styles.

Right around that time, there was a local band that was making noise in town. A friend who wrote in my high school ‘zine, Hey, Hipster, happened to play bass in the band, and Ryan was buddies with them too. Word was that they had been picked up by a big record label and they were going to do some shows in Europe. So we asked them if they would do one free show at our party before they left town. They agreed, and packed the house strictly through word of mouth, as for some reason we were not allowed to promote the appearance.

They entered the building already dressed like famous rock stars, wearing tightly-fitted sportcoats, black jeans with white belts and Reservoir Dogs’-esque skinny ties. They hit the stage and proceeded to rock the house, and shortly thereafter were quickly whisked away on a plane to the UK. The next time I saw them, it was on television.

That band was The Killers.

Nothing But A Hipster Party

Once The Killers took off—taking Ryan with them, who acted as their road manager and eventually collaborated with them on two tracks—they exploded in popularity with songs like “Somebody Told Me” and “Mr. Brightside.” Many like-minded bands would see success around that same time. Franz Ferdinand had “Take Me Out” and “This Fire”; Bloc Party set the “Banquet” and propelled “Helicopter,” while The Bravery channeled Duran Duran on “An Honest Mistake” and “Fearless.” L.A. ex-hip-hoppers She Wants Revenge went darker with “Tear You Apart” and The Rapture had the track that always drew the biggest response: “House Of Jealous Lovers.”

Spinning a smoothly-blended playlist made up of these tracks would yield a result unlike anything I'd ever seen before: wild, sweaty hipster kids losing control on the floor, often making out and passionately pulling hair in the crowded, yet intimate space. Twerking had nothing on this.

The bands that made up this scene would go down in history, defining the sound of a short-lived movement. Some have been recognized on Rolling Stone’s 500 Best Songs Of All Time list, such as The Strokes for “Last Nite,” and Yeah Yeah Yeah with “Maps.” Additionally, Interpol’s debut LP Turn On The Bright Lights was called one of the magazine’s Best Albums Of The ‘00's.

Which brings us to today.

Perhaps coincidentally, three flagship artists from New York City’s once-flourishing indie rock movement have returned with new albums, all released in September 2014. Both Interpol’s El Pintor and Karen O’s (of The Yeah Yeah Yeahs) Crush Songs were released on the 9th — the latter thru Julian Casablancas’ Cult Records imprint, which is also home to his own new record with The Voidz called Tyranny, released on September 23rd. While each of these albums carry their own artistic merits, they do little to revive a once-thriving scene. It’s clear they don’t care to.

Interpol | El Pintor

“This is our first time since then when we are, again,
a new band with something to prove…”
— Paul Banks, Rolling Stone; September 2014

El Pintor conveniently translates to “The Painter” in Spanish, and also is an anagram for “Interpol”. Of the three artists’ new albums, El Pintor sticks closest to the origins of the sound, which isn’t surprising given that the others are more offshoot, solo projects. Despite the departure of bassist/keyboardist Carlos Dengler, El Pintor still carries that heavy Interpol style, as frontman Paul Banks has taken up bass, while tourmate Brandon Curtis plays keys.

While the band has never been able to replicate the unanimous critical praise of their debut Turn on the Bright Lights, the new album doesn’t stray far from that blueprint. Very much a return to form, the catchy opening track “All The Rage Back Home” would have fit right in on my indie dance playlist ten years ago. Songs like “My Desire” and “Same Town, New Story” are built on infectious guitar chords, while the cruising “My Blue Supreme” packs meaty, funk drum kicks that The Delfonics might be envious of.

The lament of “Ancient Ways”—which begins right on the nose with “Fuck the ancient ways, they are heretofore”►—perhaps is commentary that Interpol are slaves to the rhythm of their earlier works. They’ve tried to go outside the box on their last few albums, and with El Pintor being a bit of a callback to their debut, it’s almost as if they’ve taken the “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” approach. The lyrics of “Ancient Ways” suggest that despite the band’s desire to try something new, the fans ultimately lineup for their signature sound (“But beneath us an empire grows / Every stage we align”►). So why not give them what they want, even if it’s not their hearts’ desire? (“The city sees us all like babes / And we’ve taken a vow / To be beaten by the weight of it / They are beaten by the weight / Should we seek them for the sake of it? / May we greet them right away.”►)

Karen O | Crush Songs

“When I was 27 I crushed a lot. I wasn’t sure I’d ever fall in love again. These songs were written and recorded in private around this time. They are the soundtrack to what was an ever continuing love crusade”
— Karen O, in a 2014 statement on Crush Songs

Karen O’s Crush Songs is really something for the true fans. It’s a bit like when Snoop Dogg woke up one day and decided that he wanted to do a dancehall reggae album and henceforth would only answer to “Snoop Lion.” Well maybe not that drastic of a change, but this is a departure from her material with The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, which portrayed her as a badass girl crying out over dirty, dancey basslines and sparse drums. The band delivered a voluminous sound, despite coming from only three members.

Crush Songs is the opposite of that — a series of somber solo recordings, some reportedly over eight years old. Well maybe not that old, as she mourns Michael Jackson’s 2009 death on “King,”► but old enough that they sound like they were recorded on a Maxell 90-minute cassette, and then dubbed for all her friends. Although 90 minutes would actually be too long, as many of the songs in the set are under two minutes long, with a total album playtime of just 25 minutes.

Naturally this is a letdown for anyone expecting a full-blown Karen O solo album. But that is exactly what this is: lonely Karen, accompanied by only her weeping guitar. The upside is that it shows her raw, unabashed talent, the downside is that it sounds unfinished, as if it was recorded inside a bathroom.

Julian Casablancas + The Voidz | Tyranny

“Tyranny has come in many forms throughout history. Now, the good of business is put above anything else, as corporations have become the new ruling body. Most decisions seem to be made like ones of a medieval king: whatever makes profit while ignoring and repressing the truth about whatever suffering it may cause (like pop music, for that matter).”
— Julian Casablancas, 2014 Tyranny press release

One can only imagine what it’s like to be signed to a major record label as a pioneering artist partly responsible for launching a whole new sound, and then ten years later that same label is asking you to forget all of that, adapt to pop standards and make a crossover hit.

Who knows what really went on behind the scenes with The Strokes final album for RCA, 2013's Comedown Machine, and if Julian’s above quote has anything to do with it. However the band’s decision to pull a media blackout for the album, extending no promotion or tour for it, along with the cheeky retro album cover that featured the record label’s name bigger than the artist’s, certainly raises questions.

The songs of Tyranny certainly won’t be showing up in any Target commercials next Super Bowl, as this is a very challenging LP to listen to. Julian and company break conventional rules of recording, with off-key notes purposely being played or sung, and abandoning formulaic verses-then-hook song structure (“Take Me In Your Army,” “Crunch Punch”). On the ten-minute rock opera, “Human Sadness”, there are even moments where the sounds are clashing so drastically that you have to rewind to decide whether or not it was intentional. The especially taxing “Father Electricity” is a percussion-driven experiment that plays more like a jam session than a planned-out song.

Tyranny is a far cry from Casablancas’ Strokes stuff or his superb recent Daft Punk collaboration “Instant Crush.” It is very much a “fuck you” record. It paints the picture of the crowd standing there, staring at Julian and The Voidz, jaws hanging, drool dripping down to the muddy festival floor, wondering “When is he going to play ‘Last Nite?’” (Except for that one hallucinating person, who totally gets it, demonstrating its brilliance with a spot-on interpretive dance.)

Naturally there will be people who applaud Julian’s bold step outside the box and his indignant attitude towards The Man. Surely there’s a method to the madness, but how many will want to stick around and try to figure it out?

The Hardest Button To Button

I returned to The Get Back to celebrate its 10 year anniversary in 2013. The hipster kids were still there, and a young DJ was playing “House Of Jealous Lovers,” yet now to a lukewarm response from the crowd. Serato had finally replaced the vinyl we dug so hard for a decade ago. But hearing such a staple of the scene still being played ten years later suggests one of two things: 1) the song has now been elevated to “classic” status and/or 2) the indie rock dance scene hasn’t progressed, and that golden sound was frozen in time, back in 2004.

Like anything, once any counter-culture becomes an “over-the-counter-culture,” it loses its cool factor. By the time Apple’s iPod was using dancing silhouettes to the tune of The Caesars’ “Jerk It Out,” while boisterous Brazilians were chanting the melody to White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army” at soccer matches, the scene was already beginning to lose its luster.

Of course, rock stars never want to repeat themselves, or be put in boxes, so naturally they venture out of their comfort zones, experimenting with new sounds and styles, for better or for worse. Interpol tried this over the course of their last few albums, eventually realizing that the “Ancient Ways” are actually what their fans want. Karen O and Julian Casablancas have instead gone far off the beaten path with their truly indie Cult Records releases, and the results have been less than spectacular. The result in situations like this is a mixed bag, one where critics are lauding, “Kanye West’s Yeezus is brilliant!” while fans cry, “Why can't he make another record like Late Registration?”

This could be why the hot-footed sound of the indie dance scene has faltered over the last decade. The other answer is simply that we all got old. Free-loving 24-year-olds got jobs and got pregnant, with little time to seek thrills on the downtown scene. Groups broke up, tried other things. Some artists wanted to mature with their audience, to prove they weren’t just a passing fad.

Or maybe simply peoples’ tastes changed. The more complex sounds of bands like Arcade Fire rose in popularity, while the those with the pared-down indie sound declined. Not to mention, the internet-propelled, rapidly-evolving music scene opened people up to other forms, and the younger generation began to define the new sound of cool.

Whatever the answer is, many will agree that something happened in 2003. Something remarkable.

Follow DJ Pizzo on Twitter @djpizzoHHS.
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