Interpol
El Pintor

Exploding at the same time as their fellow New Yorkers, the Strokes, Interpol still pay a toll to themselves and the world for having recorded “Turn On The Bright Lights.” Today, four years after the self-titled album and ten years since “Antics,” they attempt once more to climb that intimidating mountain that looms threateningly and makes legs tremble at just a glance. A mountain that even talented groups like The National or Editors can only admire.
My first fleeting encounter with Interpol dates back to about two or three years ago, before the comeback and the crush that arrived a year ago due to that album with that fiery red stage empty, rising in the background.
The good news, perceived from the very first listens, is that despite the departure of bassist Carlos Dengler, the New York firm is still standing strong.
It is undoubtedly a record that looks to the early days, trying to recover the good that was accomplished in the initial years. The subdued notes of “All The Rage Back Home” open, and immediately the clock hands wind back to the famous “Untitled”: the stage lights up with colorful lights, the band takes the stage, greets the crowd that has gathered numerously, and after about a minute, the guitars come into play, releasing hopeful energy into the ether despite timid gusts of wind entering at the end.
“All The Rage Back Home” demonstrates that Interpol is still standing on the surfboard riding a wave; it matters little if it's a peak, but they still know how to convey sincere emotions with a now well-tested language.
The images evoked by their music are varied but all connected by a thin red thread: a pleasant sensation of warmth surrounding us like an invisible layer, protecting and keeping our body warm from the meteorological and mental storms that grip us like tongs.
It is a mental journey, but also a physical one, walking through the neon-lit night streets of a metropolis, a big city full of opportunities, but also full of pitfalls. A jazzy, vintage, and elegant metropolis “Same Town, New Story.” The track might not be a new “NYC,” but in this album, every piece has something to communicate while steering clear of banality.
Painter Banks uses watercolors and paints on his canvas, and among the splashes, a winter metropolis emerges, seen simultaneously from above and within, where cold winds are always ready to blow deep into the human soul (“My Desire”), requiring great strength of spirit not to be sucked into the black vortex.
It is a battle between black and red, between maternal warmth, positive feelings like hope, and gray haze, both individual and collective black-out. The outskirts made of narrow, filthy, and neglected alleyways (“Ancient Ways”). A bit of Italian and a mini excerpt from the maxi-trial against the mafia in the '80s make a curious appearance at the end of “Breaker 1,” leaving us wondering where they were aiming this time.
The last, not bad blows are “Tidal Wave,” a captivating play of colors and synth with a particularly inspired Banks, and the closing of “Twice As Hard” in The National’s vein, adding imperceptible keyboard lines.
The concert ends here, the band removes their instruments, bows to thank the many attendees; the lights turn on, the noise of resounding applause fills the hall. Real and virtual applause bring Interpol back up among the noteworthy releases of 2014.