seems like a return of The Strokes - because Casablancas' rusty croon is such a defining component of theband's sound - but hang on for a little longer and you'll find it is actually quite removed, quite experimental.
Casablancas gives many of the Strokes' fans what they have been waiting for - a deep evocative anthem to grin and wave their arms to.
Who knew that when the faux bad-boy shed his garage-rock skin he would rip right into pop? It only lasts a few songs. Then, shaking himself from the confines of that legendary band, Casablancas rolls out stilted electronic accompaniments that hark back to the 80s - such a confusing era - at the same time as throwing the album into a box for artistic and sensitive males of the future.
It's a varied album: Casablancas takes us along a droning, lolling, lone-cowboy vein, broken by bursts of instrumental riffs, because he can, and loads his lyrics with alternative meaning.
There are a few stilted test drives on the album but overall Casablancas delivers a clever mix between something deep and brooding and electronically melodic. It sounds like Phraze one for a solo Casablancas.
