Interpol - Turn on the Bright Lights

Turn on the Bright Lights was relatively well-received upon its release. Critics praised its isolated and barren atmosphere, backed by some of the most awkward lyrics of the decade and song titles like "Obstacle 1". But like anything else, it wasn't universally acclaimed. The finicky bloggers and journalists who didn't quite dig Paul Banks' act criticized the album for being a shoddy Joy Division imitation. Perhaps they said this to deter hopefuls from listening to Turn on the Bright Lights. But frankly, if Interpol are just a cheap mockery of their influences, then I really need to listen to Joy Division.

Like I briefly mentioned earlier, an aura of horrific desperation and loneliness pervades throughout Turn on the Bright Lights, namely on the void and vacant "Untitled" and bittersweet ode to the Big Apple "NYC".

Maybe if I'd been to a big city I'd understand it better. The emptiness, the heartbreak. Maybe then I'd understand the album more. Pitchfork described it as "the product of a bygone New York City filled with dank alleys and smoke-choked dives", words that mean nothing to someone like me, someone who hasn't even caught a glimpse of what makes this album so relatable to some people. And yet I can still feel the magic in the closing chords and gasps of "PDA", or the cries for acceptance in "The New". Maybe that's why Turn on the Bright Lights is as good as it is.