The

Interview

we toured. It was always incremental enough
that I never felt like I forgot who I was.

Did that come later? It’s embarrassing to admit, but yeah, especially when Is This It started to get attention, that kind of thing probably happened. Egomania takes over. We felt like we had to walk into a room and kick a table over. It’s like in conversation, if you make a joke and someone laughs, you tell another joke.

Was drinking a result of that, too? Did you feel like you had to play the role of the wasted rock star? Who knows? I was hungover for two years. I’ll be the first to say I had a problem. I felt like I couldn’t say anything if I was wronged or disrespected or there was ungratefulness or lack of effort within the band. Then I’d get drunk and say what I wanted to say. But that’s no way to be. That’s not a problem anymore, though—I always spent less time in bars than the my-life-on-acid version of me in the press did.

Do you think the band was portrayed unfairly? People thought we were some put-together creation. The press created this weird parallel universe for us to exist in. I know that everyone was trying to write an exciting story, but it’s weird to imagine the idea of me and the band that you’d get from reading about us. I’m actually a pretty normal person. I watch Seinfeld. I came to it late, but I watch it.

“Do you have to
grow up in a
ghetto RoboCop
war zone to make
rock music?”

record out before everyone forgot who we were. So there was a lot of panic. It was stressful. I was happy with it, but the resounding reaction was that it sounded too much like the first one. That led to some hand-wringing: The ship is sinking because the second record sounds like the first one!

You’ve been back in the studio with the Strokes recently, right? We’ve been in and out of the studio for the last six or seven months. We had 20 songs or something. I don’t know what’s going on, to be honest.

Are the songs not good enough? I don’t know.
What can you do? I don’t know. Roughness.
We’re working stuff out.
Is it hard dealing with the Strokes at the same
time as your solo— Yes.

of the band? Definitely—no one feels like they’re trapped in a horrible situation. With my solo album, I wasn’t willing to compromise because if I was going to do it, I was going to do it my way. But I’ve always been compromising with the Strokes, even when I was also being strong-willed or opinionated. Now I just want everyone to be happy. I think good vibes are the most important thing for us if we’re going to restart. We did find an outside producer who we think can help be a tiebreaker with some decisions. It’s gonna be…I shouldn’t say.

If the Strokes never make another record, would you feel comfortable with what the band accomplished? If those three albums were our legacy, it would be all right. A little weak. It’s not about legacy; it’s about trying to put something good into the world. If we can prove that five strong-minded individuals, with all kinds of stuff working against them, can still get along and make music, that would be a great thing. It would at least be a symbolic victory.

What kind of victory is your solo album? I think it’s fun to listen to and it’s also got something to say. It’s 50 percent stuff that you can enjoy while hanging out with friends and 50 percent the search for a perfect philosophy of living. If you’re looking, there are some Creed moments. [Sings the chorus of Creed’s “What’s This Life For?”]

There was definitely the idea floating around back in 2001 that the Strokes were a bunch of Johnny-come-richlys slumming it on the Lower East Side. Or even that the band’s success was a sign of New York City’s gentrification. I understood why people thought that, but from day one, we never tried to hide who we were. I’m not going to argue that I wasn’t privileged. But do you have to grow up in a ghetto RoboCop war zone to make rock music? It’s not like I grew up a millionaire; I grew up with a single mom. I always felt like I worked really hard.

Is the problem splitting time or splitting
creativity? Both.
You’re the last person I thought I’d ever hear
sing Creed. It goes to show you.
Has the fact that everyone has been their own
boss in different projects affected the dynamic
What? People remember all sorts of strange
things.

Did you always want to be a musician? No. I was so lost for such a long time when I was a kid. When I was 13 or 14, I thought, “So I’m supposed to get good grades so I can go to a college and then get a job?” It didn’t make sense. But then my stepdad, Sam Adoquei, came in the picture. He’s my idol. He should be the male Oprah. Everything he ever said made sense to me.

Discography

Julian CasablanCas

FROM ROCK SAVIOR TO GRIZZLED VET IN THREE SHORT ALBUMS

RCA, 2001

RCA, 2003

RCA, 2006

Did he turn you on to music? Sam gave me The Wall and The Best of the Doors. That Doors tape changed my life. I heard it and I could understand what was happening musically. I had a sense I could do something like that. It just triggered something. Holding on to that feeling has been important.

Did you ever let it go? There have been times of
weirdness. In 2001, things were good. Then we
were rushed to finish the second album [2003’s
Room on Fire]. We were told to get another

The Strokes Is This It

••••••••••
For a few thrilling New York
minutes, the Strokes gave
flesh to the fantasy of cuties in
leather jackets offering sharp
guitars, a danceable beat, and
an intoxicating air of cool. Don’t
blame these Manhattan princes
for the fact that “Last Nite”
didn’t change the world. Blame
those who got garage perfection
and expected revolution.

The Strokes
Room on Fire
••••••••••
Gently criticized as more of
the same, Fire now sounds like
a band wisely withstanding a
hurricane of hype by sticking
to its strengths. Casablancas
still crooned sexy and melodic
over Nick Valensi’s and Albert
Hammond Jr.’s terse guitars
while bassist Nikolai Fraiture
and drummer Fab Moretti
bopped beautifully together.

The Strokes
First Impressions
of Earth
••••••••••
Like many great bands before
them, the Strokes addressed
self-doubt with sprawl. Fifty
minutes instead of 30. Glossy
production instead of dive-bar
grime. “You Only Live Once” and
“Electricityscape” are taut, but
the paradoxically dulling sonic
spit-shine and lyrical anomie
made for a flat listen. D.M.

62 NOVEMBER 2009 / SPIN.COM IS IN LUV WI T’ A STRIPPER