Confident, compelling return of artful angsters.
Interpol have evolved slowly but surely since their debut "Turn On The Bright Lights" 20 years ago announced them as the cool new Manhattan band people pining for Television and Joy Division could love.
This seventh record, produced without flash but with nuance by Flood and Alan Moulder, is being pitched as relatively upbeat; but loyalists needn’t worry, its murky layers of gloom are still magnificently gauged. At times they resemble The National, at others Leonard Cohen fronting The Sound. Yet there's something that only they radiate: their subtly tricky, now restrained grooves emit a noir, oddly sexy pull.
They're a group not trying too hard because they know their interactions will turn understatement into seductiveness, as Paul Banks's voice and Daniel Kessler's guitars weave sorrow and hope through the shuffling Toni, the keening Fables, and Passenger, which feels like a sequel to their classic NYC.
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