Virtue

Give it a chance and you’ll end up having a day-long conversation about ‘Virtue’, with your like-minded experimental rock fan buddies. There’s so much on offer, so much to sink your teeth into.

The Voidz and Julian might not be the most predictable band to pin down, but there are at least some things that we’ve come to expect from them: whatever they do will be interesting, unusual and thought-provoking. On ‘Virtue’, they’ve hit the jackpot with a bonus ball – fun.

In all of its shabby glory, Virtue is Casablancas strongest album in a decade.

The Voidz's everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach to rock music results in a vibrant sophomore album.

Perhaps, you think, they’ve ditched the abrasiveness of 2014 debut ‘Tyranny’? Perhaps, you wonder, our ol’ buddy Jules is keeping it simpler this time around? WRONG.

Virtue is as fun as it is challenging and is both catchy and complex.

For all the ferocious deviation and chastening of order going on here, what’s attracted and repelled, sliced open and infected us with Casablancas has been his louche, drunk vocal delivery, bag full of father issues, neat way with arpeggios and a sentimental fondness for parallel minor 6ths. Throughout its XtraLarge-n-sprawlin 15 tracks, these remain a satisfying core on ‘Virtue’.

Virtue delivers a bracing set of experiments and amounts to the most interesting record of Casablancas’ career. The band is allowed more room compared to Tyranny and the quality of the material is benefited from this, sprouting into hoary, genre-bending but ultimately tuneful psychedelic pop and rock music.

At 15 tracks long and pushing almost an hour in length, ‘Virtue’ is an indulgent effort by The Voidz but when
you’ve got as many ideas as JC and the gang – you can’t blame them for having their cake and eating it.

Virtue is the sound of honest confusion – messy, complicated and intriguing.

Even with its moving melodies and lyrics, avant-garde production elements, and exhilarating instrumental performances from the rest of the band, Virtue will probably see the same general fate as every other Casablancas effort of the past decade—adored by those who listen, and ignored by those who don’t.

With its sweeping scope and rippling tension, Virtue captures the anxieties of our current post-truth age.

The second album from Julian Casablancas and his motley New York band is sludgy, psychedelic sesh that occasionally coheres into surprising moments of clarity and radiance.

This is Casablancas unwinding and having fun and there's a lot to enjoy here. He's never sounded better (or as versatile) as a vocalist and a lot of this album ("All Wordz Are Made Up," "Lazy Boy") is genuinely great. He may be trying too hard, but at least he's trying to do something different.