Turn Off The Bright Lights-The Fall Of The New York City Promise

It’s official. Thanks to the stunningly mediocre Our Love To Admire, the final New York band from the Class of 01 released an album that failed to come anywhere near the former genius of prior releases.
You see, I am one of those that consider Interpol, The Strokes, and The Mooney Suzuki all released albums of near-perfect status. Sure, all three bands were derivative as fuck and all received their fair share of hyperbole, press, and accolades early into their career.
While sustaining this kind of immediate praise is admittedly impossible, it shouldn’t account for the fact that not one of these aforementioned bands could even hint at their former consistency.
In other words: stick a fork in the entire early aught N.Y.C. rock revival movement.
It’s done.
I’m sure there’s a ton a great bands still hammering away in that city, but the three bands (four if you count the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, I suppose) that held the most promise and demonstrated the most ability to lead have systematically, album after album, let us down with their failure at ushering in the next New York City heroes that were supposed to take over the former shakers that maintained underground adulation with commercial acceptance. Shame on me for considering that The Strokes were going to take those catchier Velvet Underground moments and smack the public around with John Cale’s viola bow. How dumb of me to believe that Interpol may’ve been able to lift a nifty Television guitar phrase and turn it into a heavy rotation favorite. And how silly to think that The Mooney Suzuki’s fist emblem would find itself hanging in suburban Hot Topics, spawning a clique of poseurs set on kicking out the jams for all the motherfuckers.
I was ready and waiting for all three of those bands to make the transition, to leave the nest, as it were, and I was fairly certain from recognizing the greatness of Is This It? or Turn On The Bright Lights or Electric Sweat that these would be the bands that could accomplish such a thing.
So why weren’t they able to?
The Strokes were not only victims of over-saturation, they demonstrated an uncanny ability to contribute to it. With Random Notes snapshot of late night exploits and the obligatory Drew Barrymore handjobs, these brats were able to take sour grape dissings of silver spoon upbringings and turn it into legitimate dissings of silver spoon upbringings. I mean, you don’t let Drew Barrymore anywhere near your cock until album number three.
And they almost immediately followed up Is This It? with a charming repeat (Room On Fire) before succumbing to the “You guys need to demonstrate versatility.” armchair quarterbacks that prompted First Impressions Of Earth.
Interpol managed to initiate their fall from grace fairly quickly after Turn On The Bright Lights; they too chose to replicate the formula of their debut for album number two (Antics) while sounding polished, commercial, and utterly uninspired for album three. If you believed the band’s notoriety for mystery and style, then it must have been tragic to watch them wallow in half-baked and utterly transparent directions that have as much chance of gaining a wider audience as Ian Curtis setting foot in America.
And then there’s The Mooney Suzuki who released the awfully shitty Alive & Amplified with the still awfully shitty Have Mercy. I’m still on the fence about if teaming up with the Matrix on Alive & Amplified was a ballsy decision or an incredibly stupid one, but I do know that the end result was a soul-less endeavor from a band that used soul as a primary selling point.
So now all three bands have a pair of albums since their last acknowledged highpoints and I’ve come to the decision that maybe that’s all we’re really going to hear from each one of them, in terms of certifiable and universally regarded releases.
I played each one of those aforementioned albums and was immediately brought back to the point where I felt something special was about to happen with them (or to them) and I eagerly awaited their next release.
Now, I’ve learned that I know longer need to be eagerly awaiting anything by The Strokes, Interpol, or The Mooney Suzuki. Instead, I’ve learned to stay clear of their falling marquees.