It manages to entertain and intrigue, and suggests that there's a lot more to Paul Banks than perhaps even he might care to acknowledge.
Banks is all new material, and is a manifestation of the quantum leap Banks has taken as a songwriter and arranger.
No pillars of noise, no bandmates – and he’s burning all the brighter for it.
With his eponymous sophomore release Banks, Interpol’s baritone leading man Paul Banks rises above past experiences, reaching nirvana in a way that’s both reflective and cathartic.
It lacks cohesion, with eerie instrumentals featuring with gentle acoustic tracks, it is a noble attempt to progress a rather formulaic, albeit excellent, musical career.
For the most part, Banks battles his animosity with underlying hope, always relying on the former with an almost self-deprecating hostility.
Banks, in contrast, is sluggish, unsteady, and ultimately noncommittal about forward motion.
There are flashes of experimentalism, but most of the focus seems to be on adding confusing levels of complexity to the album’s arrangements.