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the insider one daily report


Tuesday, August 28, 2001

Letter From Canada: Last Word On The Strokes?

Neumu's Johnny Walker (Black) writes: Dear Michael:

My my, all this fretting about The Strokes. After reading Neumu for the last week, I just had to call up my trusty Morpheus program and see what all the fuss is about (love that file-sharing technology!). My verdict? Nice bunch of lads, probably listened to the Velvet Underground box set a few times, maybe one of them even snorted a speedball once.

The singer does a nifty Lou Reed-y voice, while the band is competent, if not particularly inspired at times. However, I must say, we've already seem much better Velvets' copies in the '80s and '90s: the first album by the Dream Syndicate, The Days of Wine and Roses, for one, and just about the entire catalogue of The Feelies, which featured one of the great unsung, swingin' rock drummers of all time, Stanley Demeski, who also beat the skins for another group of Velvets-ites, Luna, who were also pretty good until Demeski left.

Needless to say, none of those (superior) bands exactly tore up the charts, so I don't know what that means for The Strokes: a rocket ride to obscurity or Top of the Pops? Most likely the former, though you never know.

But trust me on this one: whoever said that this Strokes thing is mainly a problem for A&R men and rock critics hit the nail right on the head. After listening to a bit of The Strokes, I took a late-night walk down my street, where a bunch of teenagers were having a bit of a summer beer bash on the back porch. I couldn't help but notice that they weren't listening to The Strokes, or Detroit's The White Stripes (who I like a lot, by the way), or The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. No, they were blasting hip-hopper Tupac Shakur. Judging by the impressive sales figures of Pac's latest missive from the Great Beyond, Until the End of Time,it is not Lou Reed, or Iggy Pop, or even Kurt Cobain, who fulfills the always-relevant role of rebel messiah for today's youth, but instead Mr. Shakur.

Try blasting "Ballad of A Dead Soulja," the lead-off track from his latest, REAL loud, and maybe you can see why this is. The Strokes sound awfully meek, awfully white middle-class and tame in comparison to the anger, rebellion, and pride that suffuses the best work of this ghetto supastar. Shakur sounds every moment like it's all on the line — which, in retrospect, it apparently was — like every word, every beat, every note, is crucial to him.

Yes, you could say the same thing about Raw Power or Rock 'N' Roll Animal. But those were made in the 1970s, a long time ago; Tupac's thug-hop masterpiece, All Eyez on Me, only came out in 1996. The Tupac legend is therefore still growing, while the aura of our shared rebel-rock idols from rock's golden era is starting to dissipate a bit by now. And hey, Pac repeatedly told the world to kiss his ass, went to jail, came out unrepentant, and was gunned down by his enemies in cold blood — it's gonna take a lot to top that one. "Nothing is true; everything is permitted" indeed: Cobain looks like a wuss in comparison.

Am I saying that there can't be such a thing as a rock messiah (or messiahs) ever again? No, though such a thing looks increasingly unlikely. But if it does, it ain't gonna be a nice bunch of NYC middle-class expatriates called The Strokes who fill the role — it's the kids, you see, who ain't gonna buy it.

Until next time,

JW(B)

The InsiderOne Daily Report appears weekdays at 9 AM PST, except when it doesn't.

by Michael Goldberg



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