The Strokes - Cambridge, UK, Spring 2002
By: Toby L
It's always an odd thing to chart the success of a rock-group over a period of around twelve months. With the case of The Strokes and their rise to fame and notoriety over the last year, it's even madder to truly consider just what they've been through.
When rockfeedback first interviewed the guys last year, prior to a sold-out performance at the Oxford Zodiac - to be viewed later that night by none other than Radiohead and Kate Moss - there certainly was no great whirlwind of recognition that greeted the boys as they got off the plane into the UK for their debut tour. 'Fame,' guitarist Nick Valensi originally pondered to us in 2001, before continuing, 'We're so not famous! We've been recognised a little bit, but we're hardly the Spice Girls...'
Well, whilst The Strokes are hardly the Spice Girls now - although modern-science could possibly aid this to happen should they wish it to - things have changed quite a lot since those days. Their debut-LP 'Is This It' has since been released, topping global regions and selling around a million copies, whilst 45s have reached the upper-halves of singles-charts in virtually everywhere, including the UK to Australia. Aside from that, the band's live-shows have become so hot and exclusive that it's never been a shock to watch the fashion-elite, top film-stars and classic musicians swinging in and out the doors of their sell-out venues when the NYC boys have been in town. So, yes, The Strokes have had tremendous success, but as we meet them today at the Cambridge Corn Exchange, it's apparent that, individually, they have not changed in the slightest.
Today's quest begins in actually finding the guys within this huge complex, however. Before, it would just be a case of walking to the side of a small-venue and heading for the backstage-door, but - in the venue-upgrade sensation that the band have been forced to become more accustomed to in recent times - it means that almost half an hour is spent searching them out. Yet, as they close their sound-check for the show tonight, we're ushered through to their dressing-room and all is calm.
Seated opposite is guitarist Albert Hammond Jnr. Now, Albert is the character within the band best known for supremely getting into their live-performances, whether this is through his inimitable style of jumping on Fabrizio's drum-platform at the back of the stage and then leaping off at a crucial moment during a solo or climactic finish, or just via his general instrument-thrashing. More relevantly, though, he is the one man out of the group who, when we originally chatted with the guys, was simply too exhausted to share any comments whatsoever. So, whilst the likes of Julian, Nick, Fabby and Nickolai talked merrily about their pursuits of musical-excellence, the most that was obtained in a whole hour of a hotel-room meeting from Mr. Hammond were occasional gargling-noises and snores as he lay flat on one of the beds.
Today, reassuringly, he is far more awake, seeming keen to talk to us, despite the fact that the band are conducting virtually no press at all in their UK-visit. Like back then, he's still looking for something, but whilst he once was striving for the chance to create the best music possible to him and to play such sounds with his friends to as many people as possible, he's now currently searching out for something more substantial - a bottle-opener for the crate of beer placed in their fridge. Despite this, other matters can't help being injected into the present dialogue.
'Is it really that dark when you're watching us,' asks Albert, on the band's current light-show in concert-performances. When we respond to him that it is, he smiles cheekily.
'I think it's dark in a really mysterious and cool way. We've always liked it that way from the beginning... Even when we've played in front of ten people, we asked them to make it dark... I don't really like those big, bright lights... They scare me!
'Each show is different; but we're just trying to really blow people away with our music and I think, with the lights, you're more into listening and not really paying attention as much to the people on-stage, so you may look at us occasionally and then think, 'That's cool,' but spend most of the time just trying to listen to the music that's being created.'
Aside from the technical element of The Strokes' live-show, what's changed about it since the group first starting gigging extensively last year?
Albert thinks for a second. 'Our record's been out here now for a good seven or eight months, and that really helps. When we came back, it was strange seeing loads of people just knowing what band they're gonna see; it's not like before, where half of them had never heard of us and were coming just because their friends were coming!'
Presumably, knowing such a fact puts pressure on the band to triumph even more so when performing?
'There's always band-pressure,' he exhales, 'Which is really the hardest one, because every day you're trying to beat the best one (show) you ever had, and that's kinda hard, you know? It's not like pressure from other people; it's just me, for example, worrying that I won't be able to perform as well as before.'
Playing well doesn't seem to have been much of an issue on the band's UK tour thus far; reviews and resulting reports have been ecstatic across the board. So, what have been the live-highlights already?
'Glasgow was amazing...' Albert looks into the distance, almost reliving the experience in his mind. 'The crowd there are so intense, electric - they're like gasoline just waiting for someone to drop a match, and we felt like the match! I don't think you can control something like that: you go with it...'
Another aspect of this tour which has raised eyebrows is The Strokes' decision to only take new or emerging bands on the road with them to feature as a support-act. The examples featured on the British leg of their tour have included the French electronica-duo, Stereo Total, fellow NYC noise-niks, Longwave, and hotly-tipped UK guitar-quartet, The Libertines.
'I think it's much cooler to go out on the road and help a band out, rather than go on the road with a band that's gonna help you out when you play shows,' proclaims Hammond, admirably. 'We try to do it ourselves (sell gigs out) and then bring people to the show to make it what we want it to be, rather than a show that we've got to do with other people because we can't sell tickets; that's not so cool!'
One issue of concern from some, however, is that the set-length - inclusive of the band's complete catalogue to date - is not extensive enough, averagely running in at 45-50 minutes.
Albert sighs gently. 'There's always gonna be some people that say, 'You don't play long enough,' or, 'You're not coming to the festivals - what are you doing?!' But, you know, I think they're anxious to see us and we're just as anxious to come back and play. At the same time, though, I think we'll be doing this for many years to come and we're gonna get better - so, when we come back, we'll blow your minds again!'
He laughs casually, but he's well aware that the band are capable of it.
Another benefit of the tour, incidentally, has been their inclusion of new tracks, namely the show-opening 'Meet Me In The Bathroom', notable for their more intricate stance on guitar inter-play and driving choruses.
'As you get better, you mature as song-writers,' states the guitarist, affirmatively stating the cause for the 'progression' in song-formation. 'I think they're (the new songs) a little harder to get into, but once you get into them, they last longer... Some of them are on the Internet already from the (Manchester) Apollo show we did! I don't mind it; our whole goal was to get music out to people and, like, as many people as we could, so if it's on the Internet, that's fine; they'll still come and see the show!'
How does it make you feel when you read the press creating a big deal out of the fact you've written your fourteenth song; does it anger you that they patronise the song-writing process so much?
'I don't care, and I just think it's a bit funny,' smirks Albert. 'It's annoying in some way, though, because I don't think we could have 300 songs from the way we work, because we don't go further up unless it's better than the rest. We're constantly throwing shit out, so it takes a little more time. There's no time-limit, though, because it's not like the band's not gonna be here in a year, you know? The band wants to make many records - and that can be done in like six years...'
What energy, or changes to your past work, do you want the new material to have?
Albert is slightly evasive on the matter. 'I don't think they're gonna be more complicated, but they'll definitely be like different tones, because the last LP certainly had a feeling to it... But it's something we're gonna have to think about more at home, because - when you've been on the road for this long - it's not something you want to think about... All I'm thinking now is, 'Don't die - don't have a heart-attack!' I mean, I get nervous before every show, but when you're headlining in front of several thousand people... Gee, that's a lot of people!'
Although everything discussed so far is, overall, hugely positive in its subject's nature, surely, to keep on top of being in such a high-profile position, time must be allocated for you to all focus on what you're doing and somehow distance yourself from the madness that fame has to offer?
Albert speaks in a lower tone and relates to what's been said. 'Many times on this tour, we've had to do that. We just talk to each other a lot and don't really pay attention to what's going on, and just laugh at it instead... I try to practice a lot on tour, but it doesn't really work! That's why I kinda wanna go home.'
You're all ready to go home?
He breathes in. 'I need a life, a home, and to be able to go to the rehearsal studios... It's not like a vacation - I mean, it's harder than all this (touring), but, at home, it's different... You have a routine. Our last real break was in December. We came in January of 2001, made the album in April, so that wasn't really a break, and then we started a three-month tour until the end of August. We had September off because that's when the World Trade Center event happened, and then two weeks after that, we went on the road in America and we had December off for three weeks, and, now, we're on this two and a half month tour.
'After this, we're just going home for a good three or four months. We're doing a couple of things in America, like some TV-stuff, and flying out to do one or two shows, but, I dunno, we're just gonna think about everything that's happened now.'
Something that has happened more often than ever before, as mentioned earlier, is the arrival of celebs to the group's shows; how does it make him feel?
'That doesn't make me nervous! You know, like when Radiohead came to the Oxford show, it didn't make me nervous whatsoever. I get nervous when I speak to them, because I admire them, and I don't know what to say, so I just usually say hello and walk away!'
Despite his occupation and love of everything he's a part of, Albert revealed to a recent UK journalist that he didn't actually like music when he was younger...
'Yeah, well, I got taken to the studios at such a young age,' he explains, justifying his views of the time. 'For some reason, I didn't get into it and I was never like, 'Show me that!' But, now, I'd be like, 'What does that do,' and, 'How does that work?!'
'I got into music eventually when I was about 12, or 13, but it was a very slow process; it was just like, 'Wow, a guitar's actually quite cool!' Everyone finds their own time... Eric Clapton didn't start 'til he was 17, and that's a fine age to start, because you f**king know what you really want, just start playing guitar and, within three years, you're great!
'I played guitar really weird; from 12 to 14, I knew three chords, and then I was about 15, 16 when I started getting some lessons and I started really practicing, really trying to get the barre-chords right, you know! It's obviously just moved on from there.'
Moving on from there, indeed, it led to his inclusion in The Strokes, originally known as Come On, and, of course, on to recording the debut-LP... But does he still listen to it himself?
'Yeah,' Albert utters, merrily. 'I like to listen to it and, you know, (smiles) reflect on it... It definitely doesn't seem perfect, but I don't really regret that. I think, when you record an album, there are a lot of decisions you have to make; there are a couple of parts I would change slightly, but - overall - I think it's great.
'We get a big say in our production, but we didn't want it labelled 'Produced By Gordon Raphael and the band', because we almost want to be perceived as a band that walks in, plays, walks out, and there you go! Also, with the way we design our covers and stuff, we'll like sit there for an hour and move it (an image/logo) like nothing's happened and still be, 'That's not right, that's not right! Just a little bit, one more nudge, one second...' And, then, it'll be done and everyone's like, 'Perfect!'
'When we first wrote 'Thank You' on that Beatles-like cover on 'The Modern Age' demo-EP, it just seemed so cool to everyone that bought it, so we carried it on!'
Ah-ha. But, this is where Albert gets in trouble. The phrase wasn't included on the cover of their most recent UK-single, 'Last Nite'.
He looks genuinely surprised. 'It wasn't?! Oh, I guess I didn't do such a perfect job on that, then!'
Do you feel guilty about missing that out?
'Nah! I try not to get too guilty...'
At this point, a very lively and very friendly Fabby walks into the room, prompting us to round things off.
So, what's gonna happen in your break back in New York?
Albert dreamily looks into the future. 'We're just gonna do what we did a year and a half ago: sit at home, wake up, go to the studio, rehearse, go out... Wake up. Everything gets a bit monotonous after a while; I mean, touring does, it's like: get up, oh - a show, go out, see the town, meet a girl, don't meet a girl, drink, don't get drunk.'
What keeps you excited amongst such a repetitive set of experiences?
'Little things,' he mentions, 'Like after a sound-check in eating and catering, where we all sit around and eat like a family... There are just so many moments: like, being on stage, even though you get really nervous, it's an amazing feeling... Sometimes, I just really get into the music; when I was a kid, my favourite kinda stuff was real 50s rock 'n' roll. I'm not a guitar-breaker, though; I broke an amp once, but I could never break a guitar: it's like my baby!'
'Correction,' arrives an interjection at the back of the room. Fabby is speaking. 'He's killed a drumkit before! It wasn't mine, but was a rental-kit; we were angry because it was broken, so we blamed it on the drum-set...'
Albert peers at us and tries to make sense of his antics. 'I think it was fair enough, you know: the bastard had no right to go and break!'
Suddenly, Hammond searches in his pockets frantically, only to utter a, 'Goddammit!' His cigarettes have disappeared. And, on this serious note, we grant him permission to leave... Allowing, due to his own enthusiasm on it happening, drummer Fabrizio Moretti to take his place.
Moretti is a frequently-praised member of the group, not just due to his ever-enthusiastic, intelligent, philosophical and open demeanour, let alone his perfectly-complementing range of expert drumming-ability - but also because of his hair. Which, is actually in an unusually vibrant condition this evening.
He grimaces. 'I washed it today for the first time in a while... I now look like Shirley Temple! Believe me, I don't wanna look like this!'
So, what's been going on, Fabby?
'Not much,' he lies. 'You know, the last time I saw you guys was in Birmingham and that was a fun show. Glasgow was fun, too - possibly, one of our better shows. The audience just seemed like they were an ocean swaying during every song; I felt like that relationship you always try to have with the crowd was there, 100%.
'What's cool is that, when we play the new songs, there's still that sense that the audience are stopping for a second, listening, trying to figure out if it compares to the other stuff that they really like, and so we now have a good balance of having convinced them of the songs that we have, but still struggling to get new ideas across... It all goes back to the same point: if you become too comfortable with where you are, then you become boring, so it's really important for us to measure the reactions of the crowds according to our new songs.'
Is your jumping into the audiences each night something that the crowd enjoys?
'I have to stop doing that,' he says cautiously. 'The crowd's starting to rip up all my shirts! In fact, you see that right there? (At this point, Fabby points to a line on his neck). Well, I jumped in at Glasgow, and they were pulling my shirt right up against my throat and our security-guard, who's a really great guy, had to rip the shirt so they didn't strangle me!'
Although such shenanigans must wear you out, what about your present states of mind - are they as tired?
'Well,' he contemplates seriously, 'I think it's just that we still have the same sort of desire we had when we started, and that was for us to just progress and be a better band. So, we have new songs and we still look to the horizon as if it's got stuff there for us that we need to travel for, and that's our incentive.
'We never started doing this for a specific reason other than to make music that we were satisfied with and loved, and music that we could project on to other people. It's the best reason to start a band and also the best reason to continue a band. If you just stop and stand still, you become stale, and so we're never comfortable with where we're at...'
In what ways have you changed as people due to the events over the last year?
'The only changes are practical ones, just because we've learnt how to live a life that's Nomadic, you know,' clarifies Fab. 'As much as you don't want to admit it, it does all change you a bit. You learn to mould yourself into all these different environments and so on; it's certainly a character-trait that I didn't have before, but now I do. Other than that, I think our friendships don't allow us to have any real spiritual or mental changes, due to the way that we keep each other grounded.'
Suddenly, the door bursts open again and in walks, alongside Julian, Matt Romano - the man that replaced Fabby on drums at the latter part of the band's UK tour last year after Moretti injured his hand. He says hi quickly and then leaves the room, leaving Fab to muse over him.
'Some guy said to me, 'It's funny that you guys are such good friends and he's still on the road with you, because some people would think, as a replacement drummer, you'd have a little bit of reservation, but he's such a great guy, and he did such a good job that there's no hostility.
'I remember it all well; I played a show in Manchester with a broken hand, because I didn't think it was broken. But, after the show, my hand was just shaking and it was one of the most painful things... The next date was Liverpool and we went there, where I saw a doctor. I had X-Rays done and that's when everything fell out of place: my stomach was just like, 'Urghh.' It wasn't a case of just cancelling a couple of dates - it was cancelling the rest of the tour, unless we got someone in. And, luckily, Matt knew all our music and helped us out.'
Matt's assistance couldn't have been a tougher job. Fabrizio has been playing drums since a young age, honing a style that's not just distinctive, but a vital part to The Strokes' sound. Does he indeed work on his ability so it bears some kind of unique quality?
'Very much so, but that's not just me; the relationship we have, musically, in the way we write our songs and arrangements, every part has to fit with every other instrument perfectly. When I first started out, I was filling on the kit all over the place! But, all of a sudden, one of my symbols broke and I couldn't use it anymore, and then another symbol broke! I then realised once, when I was setting up my kit, 'This second tom-drum... I don't really use it!' And so I put that down as well!
'From that, it was just feeling through what the music requires that I was able to continue... It's really what's necessary from the drums for good songs because there's this forum for ability and the only way to do that is to just be very humble in what you play - but still really bash the shit out of what's in front of you! The energy has to be there, too, and you have to be careful that you don't start getting too ahead of yourself, because once the temptation arrives to fill in with everything, it becomes too self-indulgent.'
Wow, as interesting as it is to experience an insight into The Strokes' song-writing process, it was all becoming a bit too 'Drummer's Monthly' at this point, so a change of topic?
When you get home following this time on the road, what are you specifically looking forward to?
'Just being ourselves for a little bit, you know,' Fabby responds simply. 'A good thing is that, when we left, for fun, we'd go to the studio and, when we get back, that's what we're going to start doing again; that's where the songs start to come together. I guess you could say we have a bit of a f**king schedule, because of working with a label, but they're fair and quite lenient... All our songs have to be singular gems to us: I don't know how other people perceive them, but we feel that every song has to be just as good as the last. We never think, 'Let's write this song real quick so we can have a twelfth number on the album: it's just step by step.'
And, because of this and the efforts you unload into each track you produce, it probably means that you don't have a specific favourite song of yours... But, if you were forced into choosing one..?
He beams. 'That's funny now it's mentioned; it's difficult because it changes every day - and, for every show, it's a different one... But, usually, I think not because of the song itself, but because it's always the last song of the set and we always put so much into it, it's gotta be 'Take It Or Leave It'.
It's at this instance where we seem to have struck a nerve in the young and frizzy guy, as he fully depicts the exact emotions he experiences when performing the said-number...
'When you're done, the song just kind of takes you, and you're sort of hyperventilating and you're like, 'Jesus Christ!' You sit up from the kit and you care barely walk - it's like you've just had an amazing blow-job!'
Laughs are let out across the room from anyone present, all enjoying the man's extremely vivid interpretation of what it's like to play one of the band's finest tunes.
There's little doubt that it must at least beat the potential awkwardness of collecting and receiving prizes from certain ceremonies, such as, oh, how about the Brit Awards 2002?
'It's funny,' he remembers, 'Because I thought I'd be more nervous about playing that than I would be if our name got called out because we won something - but when our name was called out, it was the other way 'round!
'I'm trying to figure out a good comparison...' He has a momentary second to himself to think about he's going to say next. 'You know when there are certain times when you want to turn off because you don't want to go into shock, and the body feels like it's walking by itself? Then, you're just looking around, but you can barely feel like you're in control? Well, it's that 'How did I just get here,' sort of feeling that you go through... The nerves came from looking at the other performers and just thinking, 'God, look at these other f**kers with their big light-shows!' It was just us, though, playing our rock 'n' roll!
'Awards-shows, though and that sort of thing are definitely not an important issue to us; they're more just sort of PR, you know? It's weird, because you can't always shoot yourself in the foot by saying to everything, 'F**k you.' Someone said to me recently, and it's stuck with me, that if there is a battle between good music and bad music, you're not going to win if you don't show your face on their battle-field. Sometimes, you just have to never do anything to compromise your music or your integrity, but just sometimes play on their table.'
Today, we've already heard what Albert views as next in line for the band and their ever-fascinating saga, but how does Fabby see the future?
'It's luckily not like, 'I wanna do a rap song!' It's nothing that drastic; we just wanna progress, and, whatever that means, I guess we'll find out when we write the songs. I think we trust enough in ourselves that we're sure we won't repeat ourselves.
'We're not necessarily needing to be really f**king heavy and really rock 'n' roll, as some parts of the new stuff are really melodic and you almost want to groove to it more... Julian's song-writing is getting more and more intelligent and special... There are parts in some of the new songs that are beautiful...
'So, the future might hold some of that, but we won't lose our rock 'n' roll ever, because we love rock 'n' roll and it's the one thing that we can say we truly love...'
We stare him out to check if his last sentiment is actually truthful.
'Well, OK - we also love beer... And women.' He smiles one of his warm facial-expressions, and we know that enough has been learnt and confirmed during the course of the day.
The rest of the evening is spent enjoying yet another electric live-show. Even when Julian mumbles how the band 'don't do f**king encores' and they proceed to play the raucous, Fabby-fave 'Take It or Leave It', the crowd seems satisfied, content they've just seen a show that will live on in their memories until they next see the band, as Albert best puts it, 'blow them away again'.
As also discovered today, The Strokes are moving on to fresh pastures new. Whilst this means they're leaving behind them all the hype, all the back-chat of their supposed rich-kid status and their haters behind, they're still going to be taking forward with them the two most important gifts that allowed them to get where they are now: the cunning talent to pen memorable and heart-warming songs, and the personal self-awareness which allows them to be so down-to-earth in the first place.
They may be going home for a while, but they'll be back when the time's right. And, next time, they'll probably be needed more than ever before.
Artists in this article: The Strokes