A quarter-century after their breakout debut, The Strokes are in an interesting stage of their career. Over the past 25 years, the New York City quartet have gone from rock music messiahs to absent icons to TikTok’s favorite indie band, thanks in large part to the creative refresher that was The New Abnormal. Now, shortly after opening for Justin Bieber their rousing, headline-grabbing Coachella performances, the gang returns with Reality Awaits, a release that proves their 2020s form is indeed their new abnormal.
As the band does on the new set, let’s begin by jumping headfirst into the deep end. Reality Awaits opens with “Psycho Shit,” which beckons you in with an ominous arpeggio and ethereal swells. An AutoTuned Julian Casablancas (more on that vocal choice later) then joins to guide the song through its five-minute crescendo. “Dine N’Dash,” the absolutely batshit second track, immediately follows that extended intro with one of the most unpredictable listening experiences you’ll find in The Strokes’ catalog. The tune kicks off with an icy, post-punk groove and a melody that sounds like an evil echo of their New Abnormal hit “The Adults Are Talking,” while later sections of the track feature everything from grand dynamic shifts to Casablancas performing spoken word in a British accent to, yes, more AutoTune.
Save for maybe the closer, the one-two punch of that opening houses the most out-there moments of Reality Awaits. In one sense, it’s an insane way to kick off the album. In another, it effectively introduces the strange unreality of the record’s world. The rest of the tracklist might be relatively more accessible, but the band is far from the immediacy of a “Someday” or the instantly inviting rocking nature of a “Reptilia.” Even at their most straightforward, these songs are warped, warbled, and prone to take a sudden left turn or introduce new elements just as quickly as they’ll abandon established ones.
Take “Lonely in the Future”: For ten seconds, it sounds like it’s going to be an absolute barn-burner, as an amped-up, fuzzed-out bass line leads the charge. In actuality, the rest of the track is a breezy, jovial jam complete with a syncopated, dance-friendly groove and auto-crooning. Similarly, “The Fruits of Conquest” comes across like a mutated Rolling Stones number before melting away into guitar slides and a psychedelic vocal refrain in the back end. That cut, as well as “Liar’s Remorse,” also boasts seemingly unrelated, though genuinely intriguing, outro vignettes. All the while, ear-grabbing timbres and clean but chaos-curious production abound.
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Casablancas is also — and this is said with love — operating at an all-time high when it comes to bullshittery. Throughout the LP’s nine songs, the frontman engages in the aforementioned sections of spoken word, culturally referential lyrics, on-mic asides (a personal favorite is “harmonic minor!” on “Liar’s Remorse”), self-induced chuckles, and, of course, the AutoTune. Oh, the AutoTune…
For all of Reality Awaits’ structural and musical weirdness, Casablancas’ liberal use of AutoTune is guaranteed to spark the most discourse among fans. The two previously released singles — the dreamy, sensitive “Falling Out of Love” and the summery, absurdist “Going Shopping” — were warmly received except for the strong choices when it came to the vocals. It seems as if The Strokes could give a fuck about such a split reception, though, as evidenced by reactive comments, as well as the bitter, Anthony Fantano-dissing lyrics of “Lonely in the Future,” a song ostensibly about how Casablancas is sick and cool and ahead of his time and if you don’t like it you just don’t get it, man. (He’s lucky the song is pretty sick and cool to match.)
That’s largely the vibe of Reality Awaits as a whole. Maybe they feel emboldened by the lasting success of The New Abnormal; maybe it’s just the fact that they’re well into their 40s now, but The Strokes sound like they have no fucks left to give. That’s not to say that they’re phoning it in — far from it. The guitar interplay between Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond Jr. is consistently great, and Nikolai Fraiture and Fabrizio Moretti’s rhythm section is just as impressive. No, The Strokes aren’t looking to cash out with some easy nostalgia play — they’re doing whatever weird shit they want.
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In theory, that’s not necessarily new for them. They’ve been branching away from, perhaps even rebelling against, their original Is This It? recipe since Angles or even moments from First Impressions of Earth. Reality Awaits, though, feels like the crew’s biggest swing yet, guided by nothing but their intuition and their ongoing battle to balance classic rock swagger and ‘music from the future’ innovation. It’s The New Abnormal with fewer guardrails, with a dash more Voidz, with whatever nutso energy comes from recording with Rick Rubin in Costa Rica. That’s potentially polarizing ground, especially if you can’t stomach the AutoTune, but if you’re able to keep your bearings, like a cowboy on a bucking white stallion, Reality Awaits is an always interesting, consistently rewarding ride.
Reality Awaits Artwork:
