The Strokes are neither complete wastes of music nor saviors of rock. They are just a band who are very good at reproducing some of their favorite artists.
Wayne Kramer of MC5, The Damned’s Brian James, with a little help from The Police’s Stewart Copeland, Guns N’ Roses’ Duff McKagan, and Blondie’s Clem Burke.
They spray Eau de Lesbos from their unshaven armpits. They are butch and blatant, miles from the closet, loud as a cranked amp. This is womyn cock rock.
Truth is, I’ve run outta new ways to describe Guttermouth’s fast’n’snotty punk antics, but that’s OK, cuz they’re basically repeating themselves by now anyway.
Mostly decent doom stutter’n’stumble, the kinda choppy, “binary”-style Meshuggah whips about, but here slinkily coils slowly around your ankles like nü metal.