STANLEY SAYS: THE STROKES - COMEDOWN MACHINE

I must admit, although quite excited to hear this album I was still a little apprehensive. I barely remember anything from the last and lost a bit of interest since it seemed The Strokes had too. Imagine my elation when what hits me is something akin to the disco-funk of our fathers’ eras. Unlike before, this is not just The Strokes for the sake of being The Strokes, this is new music in its own right with a Strokes twang. Comedown Machine is very clean, no straggly threads, and very different to the incessant-guitar-drums combo, a clear signature of theirs. The opening track Tap Out is a prime example of a Strokes-circa-2^nd album-dampened-mid-70s funk-mashup. It sort of smacks you in the face and wakes you up a bit, almost so the band forcibly make you listen to the album with syringed ears. Track 4, Welcome to Japan, definitely stands out as being one of the most revolutionary of the bunch with a feel similar to that of the Rapture's In the Grace of Our Love record. It'll make you want to do the three-step-one-clap-turn around move, the kind they do at barn dances, but with a bit of a disco twist. Bizarely the song that sounds most Strokes-esque doesn’t really sound like the strokes at all; 80s Comedown Machine has the true-to-form dampened fuzz of the Casablancas vocals but with a very guitar rock-god intro that uncontrollably forced me to sing the lyrics to American Woman by Lenny Kravitz. As quickly as you’re brought up, there’s time for a tea break at the half-way point, fittingly named ’50 50’. A bit like a grade 3 piano exercise with some winding vocals, it gives you time to take in what you've heard and prepare for the rest, a bit like a palette-cleansing sorbet, only less icey. Following this are a few revved-up guitar spotlights, just picking the pace up before the finale, during which you could be excused for thinking you’re at a beach-side bar in Monaco in the late 60s. The vocals are just as drunk as you feel, swirling round and round almost stealing a melody that could be played by a muted trumpet and not feel out of place. The song is not quite pronounced enough to understand what the lyrics are, but calming enough so you don’t care; that is until the last few seconds where you hear Quentin Tarantino ride past you on a horse. The Strokes are back ladies and gentleman, and this time they really want to be.