By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
Not that bassist Nikolai Fraiture feels he deserves unfettered access to Jack White's bank account. Mere seconds after he says "A lot of pioneers don't see the dollars they were promised," he insists that he isn't claiming Daniel Boone status for the Strokes, and he declines to take credit for boosting the career of anyone who followed in their wake. Moreover, he maintains that the band has never been motivated by profits -- a credible assertion considering that the lineup contains children-of-privilege Julian Casablancas (his father founded the Elite Model agency) and Albert Hammond Jr. (whose papa wrote and crooned the '70s shlock epic "It Never Rains in Southern California"). When the players were negotiating with their label, RCA, Fraiture notes, "We definitely opted for less money in order to have creative freedom. We were offered much more money at other record companies, but no creative freedom. That's why we passed." This decision hardly turned him into a pauper. "I definitely have enough to live happily, without any complaints," he allows. "For me, that extra money would just be a bonus."
So would the opportunity for the Strokes to be judged solely on the basis of their music -- but no such luck. Thanks largely to the baggage shouldered by Fraiture and company, the reactions to this year's First Impressions of Earth, the act's third disc, have been wildly diverse. The reviews fall into four general categories:
A. It's just like the band's first two CDs, and that's good.
B. It's just like the band's first two CDS, and that's bad.
C. It's nothing like the band's first two CDs, and that's good.
D. It's nothing like the band's first two CDs, and that's bad.
To complicate matters further, the tone of some notices implies that scribes are more interested in the Strokes' role as harbingers of a musical era than they are in the combo's continuing existence. A Spin critique ended with this: "First Impressions may not be the best Strokes album, but damn if it doesn't feel like the last." Translation: You've done all that you needed to do, so your presence is no longer required.
Views like this -- along with other cultural clues -- suggest that the Strokes, who were once rock's trendiest trendsetters, have broken their hipness. On a recent edition of the Today show, for example, co-host Katie Couric volunteered that she digs listening to the boys' tunes -- a testimonial capable of convincing anyone on the cutting edge to get rid of their old Strokes discs, pronto. But if fashion-conscious listeners have moved on, Fraiture says loads of less fickle fans remain in the fold.
"We're playing a lot of places, and most of them are sold out," he points out. "To me, that's the best reason for me being in the band. It's still about the live performance and the music, and not so much what critics say and what they try to create.
"I really believe that, for the most part, the people who come to see us enjoy our music, just like we enjoy playing it," he continues. "There's a kind of a relationship there. I don't think they're thinking, 'Oh, the historic significance of the band is this or that, and when I go see them, that's why.' I can't believe that's in the back of their minds."
The musicians' road to Strokedom was just as unlikely. Fraiture, vocalist/songwriter Casablancas, guitarist Nick Valensi and drummer Fabrizio Moretti (yeah, he's the one who dates Drew Barrymore) were raised in some of Manhattan's toniest neighborhoods and ran in many of the same circles; Fraiture told Rolling Stone that he met Casablancas when they were six. Other members connected at assorted private schools, including one in Switzerland, but the band wasn't born until 1998, when guitarist Hammond moved from Los Angeles to the Apple. Within two years, the quintet had established its sound -- Velvety vocals, danceably arty grooves and an air of oh-so-fashionable ennui that entranced arbiters of taste in New York and beyond. Suddenly, the city's scene was hot for one of the first times since the safety-pin days of CBGB, and the Strokes received (and deserved) most of the credit.
Because of the excitement over the Strokes' rise, Is This It wound up being severely overpraised. The 36-minute-long disc, although fairly diverting, is strongly derivative of previous New York musical icons, with a dash of early-'80s post-punk tossed in for good measure. Granted, tunes such as "The Modern Age" and "Alone, Together" held the promise of further development -- but this potential wasn't realized on their sophomore effort, 2003's Room on Fire. The album, which clocked in at barely 33 minutes, employed the same basic template as its predecessor, and if "Reptilia" and the rest weren't lousy, they were overly familiar, causing the CD as a whole to feel flat-out redundant. The Strokes already seemed out of ideas.