Everyone was mad about the Auto-Tune. I wasn’t mad about the Auto-Tune. Sure, Julian Casablancas kind of sounds like a malfunctioning robot, but what sucked about “Going Shopping” and “Falling Out Of Love” is how utterly forgettable they were. The Strokes are one of this century's most important rock bands because they can make a song sound simultaneously lazy and masterful. Today the Strokes' seventh album is out, and fortunately it's not all as uninspired as its advance singles.
On the other hand, opener “Psycho Shit” is an over-the-top, in-your-face explosion that tries too hard. Its unbridled bombardment isn't an ideal introduction to this Rick Rubin-produced followup to 2020's The New Abnormal, unless the band is trying to turn away the casual fans who discovered them through “The Adults Are Talking” on TikTok. Ironically, the very next song, “Dine N’ Dash,” is one of the most perfect slices of polished, clean indie rock the band has offered yet.
When they come through with songs like “Dine N’ Dash,” you just have to forgive them for the bullshit. The guitar tone is a gut-punch. Casablancas has that convincing fragility in his voice, which is completely without Auto-Tune. He mumbles, drawls, croons, speaks, strains. It’s so good that you ignore the fact that one of the most famous nepo babies is singing a refrain that goes, “We could never afford it/ We would dine and dash/ I would always go last.” It’s a really good refrain.
It’s not the only good track on Reality Awaits. Auto-Tune returns on “Lonely In The Future,” but the sonic momentum warrants its use. It’s a slick, summery nostalgia anthem that’s so catchy, the lyrics name-dropping Anthony Fantano and John Legend don’t really ruin it. Do we even listen to the Strokes for lyrics? You can barely hear what he’s saying anyway.
“Going To Babble On” is a successfully nonchalant earworm, abandoning Auto-Tune and flaunting refreshing, breezy riffs. It ends with a triumphant guitar solo. “The Fruits Of Conquest” is another highlight: a mischievous groove that leads to an idiosyncratic quasi-rap from Casablancas that’s just weird enough to work.
There are plenty of things to love about Reality Awaits, and there’s no shortage of duds. But the Strokes wouldn’t be as interesting as they are if everything they touched was gold. Check out Reality Awaits below and let us know what you think in the comments.
