A few weeks ago I heard “Untitled,” the opening cut on Interpol’s debut Turn on the Bright Lights (2002), for the first time in maybe four or five years. Even before the rhythm section crashed in, I vividly remembered why I was completely enamored with this band for a solid two months during the late summer of ‘02. Then in October of that year I caught their phenomenally lackluster live show, was immediately disenchanted with them, and haven’t touched the disc since. Rarely have I experienced such an overdose of a band, a sudden transition from unwavering devotion to heartless indifference, but such are my unpredictable tastes. I heard the entirety of Antics (2004) blaring from the speakers in a pool hall shortly after it was released, which generated little more than a shrug of the shoulders. Unsurprisingly, this was the same reaction I had to Our Love to Admire (2007), released this past week on Capitol. The record is the sound of a band who desperately wants to progress artistically, but simply lack the creative means for which to do so. There are plenty of guitars playing those slightly delayed eighth-note lines. The rhythm section of Carlos D. (bass) and Sam Fogarino (drums) remain rock-solid. Vocalist Paul Banks still sounds solemn and miserable. But as for me, I remain waiting for the band to craft a record that I haven’t already heard from them before.

“Pioneer to the Falls”
What’s with the bass tone?
Guitar solo sounds plastic
Acapella? No.

“Pioneer to the Falls” – Interpol 5:46 (Our Love to Admire, Capitol 2007)

“No I in Threesome”
I’ll ignore that name
First two bars of chorus rule
Keyboards kill it, though.

“Scale”
Again, weak-ass bass
There’s this thing called EQ’ing
It’s on the mixer.

“Heinrich Maneuver”
Pitchfork made you guys
I can’t hate on you for that
But I feel nothing.

“Mammoth”
Onto something here
I like the one-chord idea
I’m ’bout it, ’bout it.

“Mammoth” – Interpol 4:17 (Our Love to Admire, Capitol 2007)

“Pace Is the Trick”
Tired guitar tone
New pedal? Or amp setting?
It makes me yawn.

“All Fired Up”
When Interpol tours
How often do they dry-clean?
Them shits must smell rank.

“Rest My Chemistry”
This lame idea of
Piano equaling “growth”
Must come to a stop.

“Who Do You Think?”
Here’s a descriptor
Called “Interpol-by-numbers”
Apply to this song.

“Wrecking Ball”
Is this a ballad?
Where’s the “Stella” of this disc?
Feeble metaphor.

“Lighthouse”
More coffee, please, ma’am.
Shocking, I’m still listening.
I do this for fun?

Over the years I’ve grown increasingly wary of naked sentimentality in music, and I’m not sure why. For example, I never gave Ghostface’s “Momma” more than a single play. I’ll acknowledge the stellar musicianship of bands like The National, yet never listen to the group. I avoid sad white guys with guitars like the plague; hell, even Jeff Buckley, whose music used to resonate with me, now makes me slightly uneasy. This explains part of the reason why ex-Tripping Daisy Tim DeLaughter’s choral cult collective The Polyphonic Spree has more or less translated as The Monophonic Headache. The group’s kaleidoscopic anthems, grandoise orchestration, and tired utopian ideology has always seemed to me as a second-tier, post-Soft Bulletin (1999) Flaming Lips, which I’m admittedly not really into either. Still, when I heard that DeLaughter had ordered his disciples to ditch the angelic robes for military garb on newest release The Fragile Army (2007), I was curious: had the great maestro come to his senses to create a sound that’s a little more appealing than a bad acid hangover? After a session of first impression haiku, I realized that nothing had changed, and The Polyphonic Spree still incited pounding migraines and symptoms of nausea. Check for various selections from The Fragile Army at your nearest Volkswagon commercial.

“Section 21: Together We’re Heavy”
A pointless intro
Christ, I hate when bands do this
Waste of a download.

“Section 22: Running Away”
Wayne Coyne, is that you
Peering through 3D glasses?
Overblown madness.

“Section 22: Running Away” – The Polyphonic Spree 3:33 (The Fragile Army, TVT 2007)

“Section 23: Get Up and Go”
Turn the amps to ‘Rock’
Nice mic’ing of the bass drum
I’ll tolerate this.

“Section 24: The Fragile Army”
Here we go again
Triggering the gag reflex
Channeling Queen now?

“Section 25: Younger Yesterday”
Too familiar
A “Running Away” re-hash?
Shit hippie lyrics.

“Section 25: Younger Yesterday” – The Polyphonic Spree 4:35 (The Fragile Army, TVT 2007)

“Section 26: We Crawl”
Please, Tim, go back to
Managing that record store
Hell, I’ll take that job.

“Section 27: Mental Cabaret”
And… cue the headache
People really like this band?
Explain it to me.

“Section 28: Guaranteed Nightlife”
Inherently wrong
Worst track on the whole record
God, by a longshot.

“Section 29: Light to Follow”
Is that a tabla?
Something sober would be nice
See you in rehab.

“Section 30: Watch Us Explode (Justify)”
Justify this, douche
But still, the drums sound kickass
Let’s call it even.

“Section 31: Overblow Your Nest”
I’m numb to this now
Dirty hippies, take a bath
That was uncalled for.

“Section 32: The Championship”
“The world will be one”?!?
Keep away from my heartstrings
Shit don’t work with me.

In other areas of the world wide internets, my good friend Jeff Weiss asked me to contribute a guest post while he was jubilating at Bonnaroo this past week. Naturally, I broke out the surgical gloves for a dissection of a Kool G Rap verse.

Two items of note occurred to me the other day while I was eating lunch:

1. I can’t write poetry to save my life.
2. I still haven’t heard Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible (2007) in its entirety.

Here’s an idea: why not combine the two somehow? Before I go any further, I should preface by stating that Montreal’s Arcade Fire has been my musical whipping boy for quite some time now; in fact, few activities give me more pleasure than taking any opportunity to publicly lambast their fabricated grandiosity, shockingly amateurish musicianship, and emotional transparency. Yet recently I’ve felt a slight twinge of guilt whenever I begin to rip into my usual venomous diatribes, ever since the band released Neon Bible two months ago. Was it possible that they had changed? Shouldn’t I be fair to the group by at least giving them another chance with this new full-length? I borrowed a copy of the record and decided to eschew the usual review-by-numbers for a track-by-track first impression analysis using that most timeless of Japanese poetic devices, the haiku. In the end, I should have realized that tragedy would be the only outcome of my latest confrontation: I would get to flagellate the band yet again, but at the cost of the world being subjected to my grotesque poetic stylings. I suppose we’re even… for now.

“Black Mirror”
These sound effects blow
Goth was so like, yesterday
Shitty opener.

“Keep the Car Running”
Orchestra again?
Put down the mandolin now
I’m bored already.

“Neon Bible”
Grade school poetry
With lame vocal melody
Lighten up wankers.

“Intervention”
You must be joking
A goddamn pipe organ now?
Pass me the barfbag.

“Black Wave/Black Vibrations”
That chord doesn’t work
Someone boost the high EQ
Ah, the hell with it.

“Ocean of Noise”
Tolerable and
I’ll admit a nice bass tone
‘Win’ is a dumb name.

“Ocean of Noise” – Arcade Fire 4:53 (Neon Bible, Merge 2007)

“The Well and the Lighthouse”
Eighth-note picking? Yawn.
I’d love some syncopation
Someone shut her up.

“(Antichrist Television Blues)”
Biting Bruce Springsteen
What derivative douchebags
Crap title to boot.

“Windowstill”
I can see right through
This band’s bullshit psychosis
Get a grip, wankers.

“No Cars Go”
Stop it with the “Hey!”s
Nothing original here
Manufactured angst.

”No Cars Go” – Arcade Fire 5:43 (Neon Bible, Merge 2007)

“My Body Is a Cage”
I hate this guy’s voice
Again with the church organ
Please be over soon.