The Strokes

The much-hyped New York group's debut is undeniably infectious. Combining the tonal inflections of young Lou Reed with the poppiest elements of late-'70s, East Coast art-punk, the Strokes made a frenetic, jittery pop record that clicked with fans and otherwise uptight critics.

This is the stuff of which legends are made. Recorded in a sub-basement studio off Avenue
A in Manhattan, where the air was blue with cigarette smoke and three pictures from a
Victoria's Secret catalog were taped to a cabinet for something like inspiration, the
Strokes' debut album is pure New York rock & roll: all gray-pavement aggression wrapped in
black-leather cool. Less than a year ago, the Strokes were handing out gig fliers... More >

Great groove band, end of story--I wish. True grooves extend toward infinity, for one thing; here the beats implode, clashing/resolving with punky brevity and gnarly faux simplicity. Their grooves carry melody, too--and not all of it, not hardly. The Strokes' privileged formalism is annoying, so too their delight in romantic dysfunction. But they're smarter than the playa haters who aren't smart enough to target these blatant shortcomings--and also than, for instance, Firewater, who didn't start a bidding war because they do lots less with the same attitude. (Grade - A-)