ALBUM REVIEW: The Strokes – Reality Awaits

‘…‘Reality Awaits’ sees The Strokes being so focused on being experimental that they forgot to be interesting…’

The Strokes: Alex Turner just wanted to be one of them.

Within the realms of indie rock and garage rock revival, it is difficult to think of a more influential band in the modern era. The NYC outfit released their lauded debut record ‘Is This It’ back in 2001, and whilst critical acclaim has waxed and waned with each release, the band have remained one of the most relevant and beloved forces within guitar based music. Even their last record, 2020’s ‘The New Abnormal’, was received as a modern classic.

Now after six years of toying with side projects, the band have reunited for their seventh full-length LP, ‘Reality Awaits’. Teaming up once more with Rick Rubin, recording for the album started all the way back in 2022, and the resulting product is the most experimental we have ever seen from The Strokes. Incorporating elements of neo-psychedelia and country, this is unlike anything else the band have released outside of their own solo projects.

Unfortunately, ‘Reality Awaits’ sees The Strokes being so focused on being experimental that they forgot to be interesting. Julian Casablancas warbles nonsense in autotune, whilst the rest of the band pull together technically sound progressive rock inspired performances, but offer absolutely nothing inspiring. There are highlights, but they exist few and far between, like oases in the harsh, barren western frontier; for the most part, the journey is crushingly boring.

Opener ‘Psycho Shit’ has a cinematic instrumental backdrop wholly ruined by obnoxiously distorted vocals from Casablancas. ‘Falling Out of Love’ attempts to be wistful but ends up sounding as substantial as a fart in the wind, dragging out its core musical ideas to the point of total redundancy. ‘Going Shopping’ has some neat surf rock ideas, but the band never truly commit to the concept, leaving it feeling tragically half baked despite the promise. ‘Lonely in the Future’ is perhaps the most redeeming track of the bunch, with the autotune actually working well with Casablancas’ musings on cultural stagnancy, set against a buoyant and infectious samba-beat backdrop. The Anthony Fantano diss bar, however, feels remarkably out of place and shoehorned in.

By the time we get to ‘The Fruits of Conquest’ and ‘Tyrants of the Mellow Moon’, the record makes your attention span feel as though it is being dragged through the dirt by a lame donkey. Once again, the performances are undeniably performed by musicians who know their instruments well on a technical level, but they offer less excitement than watching paint dry in their execution. Casablancas is ever present with some absurd lyric coated in vocal effects, but he doesn’t even sound bad enough to be memorable; it is deeply, torturously unremarkable to behold.

Dig deep, and perhaps some vague allegories for over-reliance on technology and the replacement of the human spirit by algorithms could be divulged. But that is mere spitballing; the music is simply too boring to really care about anything The Strokes are saying here, if they are saying anything at all. There are very rare occasions that they do manage to construct something half decent on this record, but they require trudging through a mire of experimental nonsense to reach; it becomes a genuinely exhausting listening experience.

‘Reality Awaits’ is worth checking out for at least five minutes, and you will very quickly realise if you’re picking up what The Strokes are putting down. There is immense talent at play in this band, but ‘Reality Awaits’ sees them totally misuse it; a frustratingly dull experience that is only for the Casablancas superfans.

RATING: 43/100

For Fans Of: The Voidz, glass beach, Fontaines D.C.

Physical copies of the record are available to purchase here.

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