Interpol

Interpol mostly deliver on this album with what they do best, sprinkling some of their most creative moments across it.

The whole thing sounds like the eighth day of an endless party where everyone's already slept together, burned themselves out on drugs that used to be fun, and developed systems of grudges and resentments that make it barely worth talking to one another. And yet the party goes on and there they sit, sighing bitterly while confetti pours down and the drinks go around.

HAVING SAID THAT, this is still lukewarm Interpol, beginner’s stuff from a band that has weathered enough moons to know better. That it is an improvement over Our Love to Admire, now that I think about it, was a wriggling Given, a throbbing Certainty; but it’s telling that the strongest compliment I can give this eponymous step-in-the-right-direction is that it is a step in the right direction.

On the whole, Interpol isn't easy listening. In fact, it takes several spins to come to terms with it, and if all of their previous records have come littered with big singles guaranteed to excite alternative clubland's dancefloors and radio stations, Interpol is lacking in anything as instant as 'Slow Hands', 'Obstacle 1' or 'The Heinrich Maneuver'.

Given the band’s lack of blinding instrumental technique, it’s probably not wise for Interpol to try to stretch too far away from its strengths (namely, trading in clipped, minimalist tunes neatly assembled with simple-yet-effective riffs that a five-year-old could play), but what do you know, that’s what the group has decided to do here.