The Strokes have had to get used to this sort of domestic slagging, but if it was only coming from the bands they left behind it would be easier to handle. "Serious and "ethical" Nikolai Fraiture went home at Christmas and found former friends to be suspicious and envious.
"It's pretty lame," he says evenly. "They're going, Look at that guy, he changed so bad, almost like they want you to do the big rock star act. I'd understand that from people I don't know very well - but people I went to school with..."
It isn't too true that whole thing about us being privileged kids," protests Moretti. "Nick, Nikolai and I, we all had to work for our spending cash. I guess rock'n'roll is gritty and you have to know suffering and happiness to rock out. But I think we do that. It doesn't fuckin' matter what our backgrounds are."
That Julian Casablancas is considered particularly privileged - his father John founded the Elite Model Agency - is an irony not lost on the singer. A divorced dad who shacked up with model Stephanie Seymour is hardly something to add to a young man's emotional credit column. In this tale of two dads, it is the stepfather ("or rather, my mother's boyfriend"), Ghanaian painter and teacher Sam Adoquei, to whom he defers. When did the latter come into his life?
"He came in right when I left that high school from hell in Switzerland. My mom hadn't seen anyone since that thing happened with my dad... Oh no, that's not quite true, I don't want to get into the details... [exasperated sigh, then pause] I was 14, 15 years old. I don't know why that was such a difficult question..."
Adoquei introduced Casablancas to Bob Marley. Perhaps more importantly, he banged on about bad art, painters who'd tripped up and lost it, and about "work ethic".
"He'd laugh if he heard me say it, but he's the reason that I'm talking to you in this hotel room. He's the reason why we're successful. From the beginning he gave it all to me. Talking to me for hours about art. About lazy artists. About how hard you have to work, study, want it. There's no way I can summarise four years of education. I learned zero at school and learned everything at home."
Casablancas has big, slugger's forearms, a curiously womanly arse and - alone among The Strokes - a faintly intimidating aura. Although he writes the songs, The Strokes - like U2 - split everything, including publishing, six ways ("sixth Stroke" is diminutive manager Ryan Gentles), and though Casablancas retains a casting vote when band decisions are deadlocked, he's never had to use it. Today he rocks a bad biker jacket of indigo corduroy and an odd green shirt pocked with metal-rimmed eyeholes. Whenever he's asked to rejoin Q's photoshoot, he tugs angrily at his Rod-Stewart-meets-Johnny-Ramone coiffage and eyes the mirror with ponderous self-hatred. His demeanour is one of permanent exasperation. "It's like a whirlwind of... crap, really," he says.
Are you a sceptical person?
"[Irked] I'm not sceptical. I guess on a personal level I hope for the best and expect the worst."
You've said that people take advantage of your honesty. Which people?
"Because of who my father is, we're put in this category that we're just rich kids. We don't cover any of that up, but it gets out of hand sometimes. And if I read an interview where there were these rich white boys talking about Bob Marley, I'd think, Yeah they're full of shit. But it's not like my dad was friends with some record label guy and got us a deal. I was bartending, trying to book local shows, pretty much like everyone does. But I can imagine how people would perceive us as assholes."
If, like Kiss did, The Strokes released simultaneous solo albums, what would they be like?
"I'd like to collaborate on them, but they probably wouldn't let me near them. Fab's would be kinda gothic, a lot of classical-type instrumentation - like low-pitched choirs in the background, keyboards, and his voice would have a lot of reverb on it. Albert would have the most Strokes-style solo record, with lots of funny disjointed riffs, and the theme would be love and relationships. Nick would have a Mötley Crüe-meets-Blur record with high-pitched [imitates Bruce Dickenson yowl] 'Waaaaaah' vocals. Nikolai would have an indie, chilled out, [laughs] bass-driven album."
What's your greatest fear?
"I have only one fear: that we let ourselves down by not fulfilling the promise of continuing progression. Because we've started well but I don't think it's worth anything yet. If we don't make the cut, if we don't get any better, if we start sucking, whether fame comes or not, still we've failed. That's my fear. That we just [look of despair] fuck it up."
Who do you turn to for advice?
"The only people I listen to are my mom, my stepdad and God."
A cautionary tale from the annals of rock: Moby Grape - the brilliant harmony pop and folk-rock group signed to Columbia in 1967 - were the first ever band to be killed by hype. With a surefire debut album ready to go, their record label released five singles on the same day (only on, Omaha, charted at a lowly 88). They held a launch party where 700 bottles of wine were provided with special Moby Grape labels but, crucially, no corkscrews, and walked a purple-painted elephant down LA's Sunset Boulevard. Never to recover from the overkill, guitarist Skip Spence hacked down the door of drummer Don Stevenson's hotel room with an axe, believing him to be the Devil (drugs may have been involved) and singer/bassist Bob Mosley joined the Marines, because being in Vietnam was better than being in Moby Grape. Madness and penury were to follow.
The crucial question is: what's to stop The Strokes going the same way? There has been hype, and since no one is predicting a new album until 2003, the debate concerning their long-term creative stamina won't be even half-settled until then. There has been booze and -it stands to reason - there will have been drugs. The strains are huge and, lest we forget, the distractions are alluring, as Albert Hammond can attest...
"I must say about the few British girls I've slept with, as much as everyone says, Oh, they're boring, if they're boring, they're very exciting behind closed doors," he grins. "They change! It totally blew my mind. The stuff they do! I'm going, Wait a second! I thought you were gonna be calm!"
But The Strokes are learning fast. From Albert Hammond Sr, they've learned that it's too early to buy a house ("You'll worry about the mortgage rather than the music"). From experience, they realise that the way forward is to get the odd early night and be nice to one another. And from the beginning, it seems, The Strokes have sensed that being and remaining the perfect band is going to require immense attention to detail.