It has been almost three years since Interpol released Antics, their defense to the darts of preconceived "sophomoric slump" criticism. In response to the praise of their debut Turn On The Bright Lights, the group insisted that merely improvement was not an option, and that all
of their future musical efforts would contribute to creating "different" albums rather than simply "better" ones.
With all this talk about different musical directions and new changes, they certainly weren’t kidding. Antics offered shiny studio tricks and cleaner cuts, and in combination with modern branches of organ drones and dancefloor-friendly bass lines, Interpol gained this completely unexpected pop sensibility full of fresh accessibility. With a label move to (the-furthest-you-can-get-from-“indie”-) Capitol, Our Love to Admire naturally proposes the strength to establish an audience of an even larger scale, and as expected, carries the weight of a heavy-hitter, competitive label, with even shinier studio tricks and cleaner cuts. In result, musical gestures are more rousing and symphonic than ever.
Everything has just gotten bigger. The plaintive lament that is Turn On The Bright Lights displayed an almost claustrophobic sense of icy indulgence, the musical equivalent to a dark, airless room. Antics furnished imagery of road tours and time at sea in a lively, present tense, bearing the burden of travel but the enormity of possibility outside that dark, airless room; and everything about Our Love To Admire feels dramatically expansive. This time Interpol reflect on weary experiences of tours and industry disillusionment that sustains such larger scope that it feels universal, and the image of that dark, airless room has expanded to scenes of nature and sublimely breathtaking landscapes.
Logically, imagery seems to turn especially amorous and love obsessed, but it’s not the puppy love of disposable top-40 radio, it’s the adoration of cathartic, mountain-moving, soul unearthing. Overture-like in its grand, grave gestures, “Pioneer to the Falls” begins with a peculiar, wood-wind melody that dips with theatrical gloominess. With the reoccurrence of “three stowaways” it doesn’t appear specifically amorous until Banks declares “you fly straight into my heart, but here comes the fall” and the entire apparatus lifts and soars to this heavenly, melodious place.
Unconventional (but rather rock star-conventional nowadays anyway) in its sexual innuendos, “No I in Threesome” represents much of the Interpol everyone got to know during Antics, including the cheeky juxtaposition of demanding emotional states with remorseful aftermaths, full of regret. “Heinrich Maneuver” sounds like this album’s “Slow Hands” with its hummingbird-pace and Kessler’s wiry guitar treks, but vocalist Banks seems to have returned with more bite. The almost shoegaze-sounding croon that fades in and out during “Mammoth” complements the arrival of the most rock-heavy guitar entry, providing an incredible balance of tense contraction and release.
Melodies consist of Interpol signature formulas, including distilling and hypnotic cyclical layers of drama-heavy proportions and Banks’ universe of sex, drugs, and corruption—the difference is the deluxe instrumental arrangements as in “Rest My Chemistry” and sparkling closer “Lighthouse.” Our Love to Admire offers qualities of a grandiose Interpol we don’t know, but certainly embodies the introspective qualities that set them apart and continue to set them apart.
Our Love to Admire is out now on Capitol
"The Heinrich Maneuver" – [Video]
