Phrazes For The Young

We Say...

Review by Matthew Fritch

For someone who doesn't seem to care much for his own generation, the album title Phrazes For The Young is either a mockery or an empty gesture — and probably a bit of both. Strokes frontman Julian Casablancas was born as wizened and cranky as a middle-aged Lou Reed, a pop-songwriting prodigy with a thousand dimly-lit New York stories to tell. Casablancas' solo debut had every right to explore Leonard Cohen-style dour mysticism or delve deeper into the Strokes' own world-weary psyche, but it turns out the only thing Casablancas is tired of is guitar rock.

Phrazes For The Young begins with a carnivalesque keyboard swirl atop a classic Strokes guitar chug, and opener "Out Of The Blue" soon launches into the kind of soaring, laser-sharp Euro-pop and "Volare"-esque "whoa-oh-oh"s last heard on a Tilt-A-Whirl ride in 1987. Those who cried "Cars!" at the sound of synths steering the Strokes' "12:51" will have a lot more trainspotting to do with Phrazes, from the Flock Of Seagulls-evoking echo of "Left & Right And In The Dark" to the New Order-taking "11th Dimension." It all amounts to an unexpected sugar rush that deftly removes the gritty, lo-fi taste of the Strokes without washing away Casablancas himself; he's still half-apologizing for bad behavior ("The ones who I made pay were never the ones who deserved it/Those who helped me along the way, I slapped 'em as I thanked 'em") and calling for cease-fires with embattled girlfriends ("4 Chords Of The Apocalypse"). With the woozily strummy "Ludlow St.," he takes a walk on the mild side of his East Village digs, complaining that "faces are changing … yuppies invading."

While the Strokes have been accused of one-dimensionality, Phrazes changes a lot of gears over the course of just eight songs: "River Of Brakelights" breaks down into a Thom Yorke manic-mantra chorus, while the somber tracks spotlight Casablancas' vocal resemblance to fellow Lower East Side baritones Stephin Merritt (Magnetic Fields) and Adam Green (Moldy Peaches). The styles and sounds here can be picked apart and analyzed, but that would be missing the fun of the exuberant Phrazes, an album that sounds like Casablancas recapturing his youth — even if it's the youth of someone much older than himself.