Six years on from the Grammy-winning The New Abnormal, The Strokes have returned with Reality Awaits, their seventh studio album and their most polarising body of work to date. Released July 24 via Cult Records and RCA, the nine-track record was produced by Rick Rubin at his Costa Rica studio, and it shows. This is The Strokes with fewer guardrails, weirder instincts and a vocalist who appears to have stopped caring what anyone thinks.
The album opens with "Psycho Shit," a five-minute crescendo that lures you in with an ominous arpeggio before erupting into one of the most unpredictable stretches in the band's catalogue. It is followed by "Dine N'Dash," a track that kicks off with a post-punk groove eerily reminiscent of The New Abnormal's "The Adults Are Talking" before spiralling into spoken word, dynamic shifts and Casablancas performing in a British accent. It is chaotic, audacious and completely compelling.
Then there is the AutoTune. It is everywhere. Casablancas has been using vocal processing for years, but Reality Awaits dials it up to a degree that will divide listeners. On "Lonely in the Future," the AutoTune actually works: a slick, summery anthem that name-drops Anthony Fantano and John Legend, its catchiness almost forgiving the lyrical indulgence. "Going Shopping," the second single, is dreamy and absurdist in equal measure. "Falling Out of Love," the first single, remains the record's most accessible entry point.
But the deeper cuts reward repeated listening. "Going to Babble On" is a breezy earworm that abandons the AutoTune for refreshing riffs and a triumphant guitar solo. "The Fruits of Conquest" channels a mutated Rolling Stones groove before melting into psychedelic vocal refrains. "Liar's Remorse" features a self-indulgent on-mic aside of "harmonic minor!" that somehow adds to the charm rather than detracting from it.
The guitar interplay between Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond Jr. remains consistently great, while Nikolai Fraiture and Fabrizio Moretti's rhythm section is as tight as ever. This is not a band phoning it in. Rather, The Strokes sound like they have no fucks left to give, and that freedom has produced their most experimental record since Angles. Whether that experimentation lands for you depends entirely on your tolerance for AutoTune and absurdist detours. If you can keep your bearings, Reality Awaits is an always interesting, consistently rewarding ride.
