Interpol Albums (3)
What The Critics Say
Though Our Love to Admire is technically Interpol's first major-label album, the way the band attempted to streamline the gorgeously dark atmospherics of Turn on the Bright Lights into something more marketable on Antics made that album feel more like their big-time debut than this album does. On Our Love to Admire, Interpol spends roughly half their time following Antics' gameplan of distilling their sound into readily accessible hooks, and the other half stretching their sound with deluxe arrangements and filligrees like strings, brass, and keyboards (all of which are used to grandiose effect on "Wrecking Ball"). Our Love to Admire's poppy tracks have been polished into black patent leather brilliance: "No I in Threesome"'s jaunty, insistent rhythms and "The Heinrich Maneuver"'s relatively bright, bouncy attack show that Interpol has gotten better, or at least more accomplished, at transforming their sound into singles since Antics. More heartening news for Turn on the Bright Lights fans arrives on Our Love to Admire's ambitious tracks, some of which come close to touching the greatness of Interpol's debut. "Pioneer to the Falls" uses the album's expansive production to the hilt, beginning with elegantly treacherous guitars, strings, and pianos; Daniel Kessler's soaring guitar solo and Paul Banks' repeated entreaties of "you fly straight into my heart" feel like the musical equivalent of storm clouds clearing. The song is filmic and full of ideas, and updates the spirit behind Turn on the Bright Lights without rehashing its sound slavishly. "Mammoth" is another standout, a tense yet hypnotic rocker that builds into a graceful fury around the refrain "spare me the suspense" and the band's relentless rhythm section. However, two of the prettiest songs vie for the title of the album's strongest track: "Rest My Chemistry" is Our Love to Admire's languid, luminous centerpiece (and the song that most clearly recalls Turn on the Bright Lights' magic), while the album's spare, vulnerable finale, "The Lighthouse," boasts some of Banks' most natural, affecting vocals yet. When Our Love to Admire falters -- and it falters a fair amount of the time -- it's because Interpol's attention to atmosphere and detail outpaces the songwriting. At this point the band is so professional that songs like "The Scale," "Who Do You Think?," and "Pace Is the Trick" can sound good in the moment, but fail to leave a lasting impression. With nearly as many awkward moments as inspired ones, Our Love to Admire is a somewhat schizophrenic listening experience. It feels like half of an album by a band making sure their songs that fit the mold of what they've done before, and half of an album by a band using their major-label leverage to push their boundaries. Who knows which version of the band will prevail, but there are just enough interesting songs on Our Love to Admire to suggest that they can't be written off entirely just yet. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Had Interpol been honest with themselves before making their second album, they would've accepted the fact that improving on the debut would be out of the question. Their prime objective, then, would be to make a different record -- not a better one. Suck it up, prepare for the inevitable "sophomore slump" darts, and get on with it. Having fielded comparison after comparison since the release of Turn on the Bright Lights, you'd think the band would've also thought to be more cautious the second time around. They weren't. Believe it or not, Antics opens with a song that resembles a defunct band more closely -- in structure, sound, and sentiment -- than anything on the debut. From the processional church organ to the sighing guitar, from the echo on the spare piano notes to the sound of the drums, from the stained-glass window to the wailing wall, "Next Exit" is a poor facsimile of Gentlemen-era Afghan Whigs (there we go again). Though the remainder of the album sounds like Interpol, and not your favorite unsung band, it's far from a favorable start -- and as Antics plays out, the album begins to form the shape of a Singles Going Unsteady, with five possible A-sides and as many apparent B-sides arranged to stream like something you'd listen to from beginning to end. The sequence runs thusly: B-side, A-side, A-side, B-side, A-side, B-side, B-side, A-side, A-side, B-side. Some of the five A-sides cast Interpol in brighter light -- a relatively upbeat one, not merely an up-tempo one. Though up-tempo songs weren't absent from Turn on the Bright Lights, they were delivered in pensive, steady waves of gloom. The up-tempo songs here aren't nearly as downcast -- even "C'mere," in which Paul Banks sings, "The trouble is that you're in love with someone else," turns out to be more charming than self-pitying. Another development is the presence of some taut dance rhythms -- touring has made them a better, more flexible band, especially within the interplay between bassist Carlos Dengler and drummer Sam Fogarino. To the band's credit, the weaker songs aren't necessarily eating space for no reason -- their B-material here is more affecting than the average indie band's A-material. The problem is that, during those lesser moments, the band shows signs of attempting to cannibalize Turn on the Bright Lights' magnetic sulking, and their hearts don't seem to be as in it. The truth, as alluded to above, is that they will never make a record as special as the debut. However, following it with one that is merely very good is no crime. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide
'Turn on the Bright Lights'
Release Date 8/20/2002
Tracks 11
Label Matador
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
One might go into a review like this one wondering how many words will pass before Joy Division is brought up. In this case, the answer is 16. Many are too quick to classify Interpol as mimics and lose out on discovering that little more than an allusion is being made. The music made by both bands explores the vast space between black and white and produces something pained, deftly penetrating, and beautiful. Save for a couple vocal tics, that's where the obvious parallels end. The other fleeting comparisons one can one whip up when talking about Interpol are several -- roughly the same amount that can be conjured when talking about any other guitar/drums/vocals band formed since the '90s. So, sure enough, one could play the similarity game with this record all day and bring up a pile of bands. It could be a detrimental thing to do, especially when this record is so spellbinding and doesn't deserve to be mottled with such bilge. However, this record is a special case; slaying the albatross this band has been unfairly strangled by is urgent and key. Let's: there's another Manchester band at the heart of "Say Hello to the Angels," but that heart is bookended by a beginning and end that approaches the agitated squall of Fugazi; the torchy, elegiac "Leif Erikson" plays out like a missing scene from the Afghan Whigs' Gentlemen; the upper-register refrain near the close of "Obstacle 1" channels Shudder to Think. This record is no fun at all, the tension is rarely resolved, and -- oh no! -- it isn't exactly revolutionary, though some new shades of gray have been discovered. But you shouldn't allow your perception to be fogged by such considerations when someone has just done it for you and, most importantly, when all this brilliance is waiting to overwhelm you. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide
