The Strokes’ concert last Tuesday was a safe bet for D.C. kids with a curfew: By 11:30 p.m. ushers were already yelling for the hangers-on to clear the building. After playing a 50-minute set with no encore, the Strokes had cleared D.A.R. Constitution Hall in record time.
Following the debut of their first album Is This It in 2001, many critics hailed the Strokes as the saviors of rock and roll. The band’s five members, led by Julian Casablancas, have ridden a wave of hype and wavy hair to become one of most-talked about bands of both this year and last.
D.A.R. did not set the right tone for a supposed underground rock band; its high white ceilings, carpeted floor and spacious aisles are more appropriate for the high school graduations it often hosts. A confused grandmother could have easily wandered in, been escorted to her seat by an usher, and settled into an evening at the philharmonic with the quiet crowd before realizing her mistake when Jimmy Fallon, the band’s opener, started humping the stage in a white tracksuit.
Despite Fallon’s enthusiasm, the crowd numbering nearly 3700 remained apathetic throughout his set. While the front row adored Fallon’s impersonations of Alanis Morissette and Dave Matthews singing about a troll doll, Fallon’s own songs, played with a back-up band in matching white tracksuits, were impossible to understand. Fallon had the most success with the crowd when he reverted to impersonations of ‘80s singers by dancing and singing their lyrics to the tune of MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This.”
The Strokes slouched onto stage and provided instant gratification by playing their most popular radio hit, “Last Nite.” The band ran through all its album tracks, mixing in about five new indistinguishable songs without pause. The Strokes proved so good at recreating its studio sound that the audience might as well have thrown a party with Is This It on repeat.
The lack of a rock-and-roll atmosphere forced the fans to pretend that D.A.R. was a crowded bar while they danced. One noticeable concert-goer in the front row magically transported himself to the slopes of the Swiss Alps and got his groove on ski-style by frantically pumping his arms back and forth in tempo for the duration of the set. Unfortunately he was whisked away by a security guard before he could complete his run, ruining the energetic atmosphere.
Unless they came just to see the Strokes’ latest hairstyle (yes, the drummer got a buzz-cut), the audience was left with nothing else to focus on but Casablancas’ amazing ability to not blink for an entire set. But after 45 minutes, he had had enough: He jumped into the front row and was immediately surrounded by screeching girls. When he climbed back up, he pulled a girl up with him and the formerly-dead crowd roused themselves enough to take the stage by storm. The hundred people moshing on stage in the last thirty seconds of the show easily overshadowed the Strokes’ lack of energy throughout the night. The only joy awarded to the cheap seat holders stuck in the stands was a fleeting glimpse of Casablancas’ ass when an ecstatic fan bodyslammed him to the ground.
Whether the Strokes deserve the praise surrounding their debut will depend on how they are able to follow it up-whether they will be immortalized as rock gods or exposed as spoiled New York rich kids who got lucky. In particular, the energy and the length of the band’s shows needs to improve, as well as does its stage presence. Tuesday’s audience could agree with this-soon after the band vanished and the lights came up they were sent to bed early with a warm glass of milk.
