I love the Strokes. I just saw them at Outside Lands in San Francisco this last Saturday night. My love was renewed, it was tended to, logs were thrown on, the flames fanned, the fire burns bright and hard in the middle of my stomach. Fuck. Yes.
"In the sunshine having fun, it's in my blood."
I've seen the Strokes perform live three times now, twice in SF and once in Vegas. For a group that plays the disaffected, listless persona so well, they execute songs with great care. When they perform live, they play the songs from the record exactly like the songs from the record. They don't fuck around with arrogant spontaneity. They play the hits, they hit every fucking note. They waste no time. They take the whole leg of beef and cut off all the fat. Give you a meaty, all-beef burger with curly fries, ranch dressing, chocolate shakes and napkins. It's fucking clean.
Of course there is a place for spontaneity and free form jazz and all that bullshit. But not these songs. No, these songs must be executed perfectly, and execution is what the Strokes do. They kill shit.
In 2001 I was a junior in college, and I saw the "Last Nite" video for the first time. The video split my stomach with a samurai sword and opened me up like a pomegranate. In retrospect, I probably should have just fallen over and wept, let it all out, curled up like a baby and shed tears of joy and suffering. I wouldn't realize until later that that video created a divide. My musical world would from then on be defined by pre- and post-strokes.
I watched the "Last Nite" video again tonight and I felt it again, that silly, gleeful, don't give a shit, hipster happiness that starts in your stomach and melts into your bloodstream. I was just grinning at my little computer screen while Julian stumbles around the stage, bumping into Albert, throwing the mic stand like a javelin as the song unfolds into petunias and ripcords and little girl hearts and their effete arrogance. Simple things, falling. "I'm walking out that door, yeah."
I was worried waiting in the minutes before The Strokes went on stage last Saturday night. I was worried because I didn't know what to expect. I thought they might pull a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah and make one great record (or in the Strokes case, three great records) then follow it up with an experimental piece of shit. I was worried the Strokes might come on stage, start playing and just sound sloppy. I worry about these things. I was also hoping they might play a few new songs. But none of that happened. They executed their best songs with passion and precision. Better than I have ever heard them. That was what was so amazing. They sounded better than before, more mature, more intrinsically connected. They play together so beautifully. They have from the beginning. And it was real again last Saturday night. They make it look easy to play together so seamlessly, but it is not. Maybe it was the sound system at Outside Lands, which for an outdoor event was on the level of real critical acclaim. Maybe it was just magic. Whatever it was, it worked, and it made me happy.
