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THE STROKES RCA RECORDS  It happened so quickly. Faster than one once said, “The Strokes are making rock music big and accessible again,” it happened. They’ve become the band it’s cool to oppose. Oppose them if you want, if you can’t stand their chic apathy, strategically messed up hair and hi-fi disguised as low-fi/alcohol disguised as heroin thing. Me, I’ll listen to another fine pop album. Not as good as the first, mind you, but certainly not a disappointment. Julian Casablancas’ loungey croon takes on a coyer quality, especially on “Automatic Stop” and “Under Control,” a soulful plea with supple guitar licks by Albert Hammond Jr. and Nick Valensi that would make Keith Richards look down from heaven and smile. The hooks aren’t as catchy but the songs sound fuller; what Room of Fire lacks in pop amiability, it makes up for with a mature sense of desperation, audible on the stellar opener, “What Ever Happened?” and the frantic guitar weave, “Reptilia.” “I Can’t Win” sounds like an early Cure track and the kitschy “The End Has No End” sounds like Frankie learned how to sing, play guitar and ran away to Alphabet City instead of going to Hollywood. Lyrically, it’s social commentary in that “Sex in the City” kind of way. But frankly, I’m sick of hearing what people think about the war and it’s fun to get some insight into another realm I’m just as unaware of- dating. This is the theme of the first single, “12:51,” a Cars sounding late adolescent anthem that’s more fun than hard liquor and putt putt. In baseball term, with Room of Fire, the Strokes walked. And a walk, although less noticeable, is as good as a hit. review by tom birner |
