Unlike many bands that release notable debut albums and then take years to deliver a follow-up,
the Strokes
got
Room on Fire
out as quickly as possible after their lengthy tour for
Is This It
. Good thing, too; the two years between their debut and this album were long enough for the expectations for -- and the backlash against -- a new
Strokes
album to reach formidable proportions. And
sound like they have a lot to prove on
, not to their naysayers, but to themselves. On the surface, the album isn't drastically different than
, but it's not predictable. Instead of delivering an album's worth of
"Last Nite"
s,
"Someday"
s, and
"NYC Cop"
expands on their debut's off-kilter and complex tracks, like
"Is This It?"
and
"Hard to Explain."
The album's first single,
"12:51,"
signals
' intent: its whistling, synth-like guitars and handclaps are undeniably catchy, but at first, the song seems to be searching for a structure. Eventually, though, it becomes sneakily addictive -- it's a stealth
pop
song. Likewise, the album opens with
"What Ever Happened?,"
on which
Julian Casablancas
snarls "I wanna be forgotten/And I don't wanna be reminded" -- not exactly the likeliest start to what should be a triumphant second album from one of the most celebrated
rock
bands of the 2000s. In many ways,
is
' bid to be taken seriously, which may be why they began this album with producer
Nigel Godrich
before returning to
producer
Gordon Raphael
. To his credit,
Raphael
gives the album its own sound: it's brighter and fuller than
's low-rent production.
also has a distinct attitude.
sounded effortless, but it's evident that a great deal of effort was put into
. Yet the album's most crafted moments are its most exciting:
"Automatic Stop,"
a playful, poignant look back at a love triangle, lopes along to a
reggae
beat (and features the witty lyrics "So many fish there in the sea/I wanted her/He wanted me").
"Under Control,"
an awkwardly gorgeous homage to '60s
soul
, is possibly the best
song yet. Several songs recapture some of
's exuberance; not surprisingly, they're the ones that the band wrote while on tour.
"You Talk Way Too Much"
revs on one of their most
Velvets-y
riffs;
"Meet Me in the Bathroom"
's
Motown
-like bassline and shimmery guitars add some style to its underlying sleaze. However,
are a different band than when they recorded
, and
's best songs acknowledge that. There's a weariness lingering around
like stale smoke, especially on
"The End Has No End,"
a loop of a song about a nagging breakup that repeats its seemingly nonsensical title in a surprisingly affecting way.
"Reptilia,"
meanwhile, sounds like a long night of partying turned sour. "Please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast,"
Casablancas
wails (most of
's distortion comes from his vocals, which give the impression that he's gargled with turpentine and brushed his teeth with steel wool for the past two years). The motif of moving too fast and not minding it winds through
, reflecting its svelte 33-minute running time as well as the swiftness of
' career. This compressed feel, the precision of the band's playing and arrangements, and the way every song comes to an abrupt stop sometimes make the album sound too closed-off.
's best moments fight against this tendency and suggest that
are continuing to grow, perhaps beyond what their listeners want from them. Some may gripe that it's never as good as the first time, but
shows that even after all that happened to
, they can still surprise. ~ Heather Phares