Julian Casablancas: Phrazes For The Young

JULIAN CASABLANCAS: PHRAZES FOR THE YOUNG (2009)

1) Out Of The Blue; 2) Left & Right In The Dark; 3) 11th Dimension; 4) 4 Chords Of The Apocalypse; 5) Ludlow St.; 6) River Of Brakelights; 7) Glass; 8) Tourist.

General verdict: An unexpectedly solid mix of Sixtiesʼ, Seventiesʼ, and Eightiesʼ influences, not to mention the conceptual time machine all the way back to 1900.

"The first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible", thus begins Oscar Wildeʼs Phrases And Philosophies For The Young, and "To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance" is how it ends — and now just look at this album cover and everything becomes crystal clear. Some might wonder why Julian Casablancas even felt a need to make his own solo album when he had always been the primary creative force in his own band, but the thing is, the Strokes are a band, and the band members do happen to have creative differences — one of the reasons why Angles, the much awaited follow-up to First Impressions Of Earth, was held up for such a long period. The way I see it, Casablancas is more of a Mick Jaggerish presence in the band, whereas Nick Valensi is somewhat more Keith Richardish — a very rough and symbolic approximation, of course, given that none of them ever really sound like the Stones, but then I guess itʼs just a nice analogy that can always be used to describe the opposing forces of the vocalist frontman and the guitar-wielding sidekick in any rock band, so there you go.

Anyway, when I first skimped through some descriptions / reviews of Julianʼs solo album, I ended up with the wrong impression that he wanted to make an electronic dance-pop record or something like that, and that Strokes fans who like their guitar music would probably be seriously disgruntled about this. Fear not, though. The record does feature quite a bit of synthesized keyboards, as well as programmed drums (Casablancas played most of the instruments himself), but its overall sound and style is not that much removed from the usual Strokes vibe. It is most certainly not an easy-going rockʼnʼroll record, but neither were First Impressions; with each new album, the Strokes were progressively demanding more and more to be taken as serious artists, and Phrazes For The Young is simply the next step.

Surprisingly, the album is pretty damn good. First and foremost, Julian corrects the biggest mistake of First Impressions — trims down the length: there are but eight tracks here, amounting to about 40 minutes worth of music. Second, there is an interesting flow to the tracks: the album sucks you in with a few relatively catchy and upbeat numbers, gradually makes you come to terms with the alliance between analog and electronic equipment, then slows down into pensive, singer-songwriterish territory. By the time itʼs over, you might have stopped paying close attention, but you might still be subconsciously influenced by the constant shift of direction so much that your brain might give off a small «thatʼs it? I want more!...» impulse, whereas with First Impressions, it was more of an «enough already!...» after a while.

The album opener ʽOut Of The Blueʼ is the slightly deceiving Strokes-like opener, a fast-paced, catchy pop-rocker with a «dual core» of rapidly strummed guitars and organ-like synthesizers in classic Blondie mode — plus a bunch of psychedelic lead guitar overdubs later on. The lyrics are moderately cryptic and confusing, and even if Julian finishes his odd personal tale with "thatʼs all Iʼm gonna say now before they come knockinʼ on my door", I think that he still got plenty of time before "they" actually figure out why the hell are they supposed to knock on it in the first place, unless they take the line "somewhere along the way my anger turned to vengeance" too literally and send in a bomb expert or something. But I do like the overall mood — the bitter-cynical vocals, the romantic electronics, and the hallucinatory lead guitars generate an odd atmosphere of hipster coolness that you do not always get on a typical Strokes record.

The next two songs are easily the cheeriest and most synth-pop-like on the whole album, though, ironically, ʽLeft & Right In The Darkʼ reminds me less of the Cars than it does of Dire Straitsʼ ʽWalk Of Lifeʼ — utilizing the same trick of drilling a happy keyboard riff in your head even before the full arrangement kicks in. The build-up from verse to bridge to chorus is quite decent, even if the idea of using "wake up, wake up" as the vocal hook for the chorus might seem trite and over-worn — and it is useless to hope that Julian Casablancas, the one-man band, may be capable of outplaying Arcade Fire. Still a good song, as is the follow-up, ʽ11th Dimensionʼ, probably the biggest throwback to the Eighties on the album — sounds like a bittersweet ABC pop anthem (though Martin Fry would probably shy away from a lyric like "I live on the frozen surface of a fireball / Where cities come together to hate each other in the name of sport").

The record then undergoes quite a drastic shift, as the ironically titled (since it utilizes a fairly standard chord progression) ʽ4 Chords Of The Apocalypseʼ slows it down to the heart rate of a meditative country waltz, as if Julian suddenly decided to go all Gram Parsons on our asses. This is where things get seriously unexpected — it was pop-rock before that, and now we are in full-blown singer-songwriter mode, and even the vocals, usually processed and distant, are now moving in closer and trying to weave a blue-eyed soul atmosphere around you. Is it good? I am not sure about that, but it startled me, and thatʼs probably the most I can ask from this guy. After this, ʽLudlow St.ʼ continues the slow balladeering vibe, as Julian gets symbolically drunk, picks up inspiration from Leonard Cohen — maybe? — and attempts to connect his own story with that of Ludlow St., going all the way back to 1624... with a banjo on his knee, no less.

This new feel permeates the record until the very end — youʼd think it were a bit risky, not to mention arrogant, to end the album with a song called ʽTouristʼ, but in truth, it is melodically more similar to a Neil Young ballad than anything by Radiohead: in fact, even just glancing at the lyrics ("I feel like a tourist, out in the country...") and remembering how the chorus hook goes makes me think old Neil would have a blast with this song, maybe throwing in a bit of dirty fuzz over its nifty little acoustic riff. Granted, all this deep melancholy does seem a little artificial for a comfy urban guy like Casablancas — but then, remember, "the first duty in life is to be as artificial as possible", isnʼt it?

All in all, do not be surprised, but I think that this is Julianʼs best offering since Is This It — simply because the solo format has allowed him to do something ever so slightly different and expanding at once into two completely opposite territories (synth-pop and traditional singer-songwriting stuff). It is absolutely not enough to make me go wow and welcome the guy as the new definitive spokesman for his generation, or even to justify the comparison between himself and Oscar Wilde, but he has managed to make himself more interesting to me with this record, and I might even want to spend a bit more time with it to understand why.