dressmeslowly2

Dress me slowly (I like my title better...) more of it...

In early 2000, The Strokes played their first gig at "the shittiest club in New York", the now defunct Spiral. It was a Tuesday night and more people were on the stage than the audience. Across the street was their dream gig, the Mercury Lounge, the coolest small band venue in New York. They gigged constantly, progressing to other venues such as The Acme, Baby Jupiter and Arlene Grocery, before landing in the Mercury Lounge and climbing the venues manager, Ryan Gentles, as their own. Already The Strokes stood out, even on their home turf. In a scene rife with cool schtick, the band were simply being themselves.
"There really is no 'scene' in New York," Valensi says. "For us least. A lot of bands like to tweak their gimmick, like become mod or something, and get into that scene. We just try to avoid that and get everyone to come and see us.
"At the beginning of 2001 we were one of a handful of really popular bands in New York. We were taking big baby steps to get to that point. It was like, If we can get to be a really popular band in New York that means we're good. And we can do it anywhere else."
What happened next, happened quickly. Gentles had sent a copy of the band's demo tape (of The Modern Age) to Rough Trade honcho Geoff Travis in London, who loved it. To the gobsmacked wonder of the band, Gentles told them over dinner in New York that Rough Trade not only wanted to release The Modern Age as a single, but fly them to England. Popular musical myth claims Travis offered them a record deal halfway through the first listen of the demo's title track.
Hip had met hype and The Strokes, who had just finished recording their debut LP in New York, were the catalyst. With their first UK visit whipping up a media storm, they returned in June with fellow NY protagonists the Moldy Peaches for a sold-out 16-date run, in support of a single, Hard To Explain/NYC Cops. Platitudes came from all around and the band seemingly usurped their New York popularity once the release notched up a place in the Top 20.
With notoriety came the prerequisite celebrity attendance at shows. Radiohead and Kate Moss showed up to see the band's gig in Oxford. Notable others also flocked to the show at London's Heaven nightclub. The fashion press 3was equally excited.
"Kate Moss?" enquires Casablancas. "She was talking to [Moldy Peaches vocalist] Adam Green."
"She knows we're gay," Hammond Jr laughs.
"If celebrities wanna come to our show I just hope they're coming cos they like our music," Valensi says, earnestly, "not because it happens to be the cool place to be that night. Kate Moss is a person just like the dude in the front row last night who I don't even know. Just as long as people are coming because they like our music, it's the right reason to go to a show."
Apparently some people who were going for the right reason ended up paying up to Ł180 for the privilege.
"That's true," says a cringing Casablancas. "That's really embarrassing. It's so ridiculous. I think if somebody paid that much money for the show it definitely would not be worth it."
"If Kate Moss paid that, it's alright," says Valensi. "Actually, on the night of the London Heaven show we had an after-party and this girl told us she paid Ł50 to get in. So Julian gave her Ł50."
"I was wasted," says Casablancas, sheepishly. "She was really nice though, you know?"
Do you think the hype may one day damage you?
"The hype has nothing to do with us," us Hammond Jr. "The press made the hype. We should have an interview day with them and ask them, Why did you hype it?"
"I think it's cool if it got our name out to a lot more people," Valensi offers. "If our record was bad then it would be bad, but I think we made a really strong, cool record. It will overpower anyone saying anything. If it's not true, I still think we made a great record. [Assumes a Rhett Butler tone] So frankly, I don't give a shit."
"What happens after our record comes out?" asks Casablancas. "Do we, like, get jobs again?"
"No," says Valensi, with feeling. "Hey! what are you doing, man?"
Perhaps intoxicated by the presence of skinny rock boys with New York accents, the Northbridge street guy suddenly makes himself comfortable in a vacant seat between Q and Hammond Jr. "Why are you sitting down man?" the guitarist demands. "We didn't invite you."
The interloper, rising to his feet, is a little miffed. "Don't fly too high," he hisses, eyeing Valensi and Hammond Jr. He backs off several feet, then stands his ground, mumbling inaudible threats. After politely enquiring if our mystery guest would like to move on, the band's soundman, James, apparently the owner of a black belt, rises to his feet and towers over the interloper, demanding his departure. The whiff of potential violence is in the air.
"Is this recording?" ask the band collectively, pointing to the tape recorder.
"That guy's scared shitless, man," says Hammond Jr, gleefully.
"James could, like, seriously kill that guy with his finger," Valensi claims.
Outsized and obviously outclassed, the interloper cuts a hasty retreat, as James takes his seat, neither proud nor perturbed by the stand off.
So then, how do you like the locals?
"In New York every third person's acting like that," Casablancas says. "Hardly anyone acts like that here, so when someone does it's even weirder."
The singer leans back in his chair, laughing quietly at the interruption.
"James! I'd hate fuck with you, dude."

Later that night, at the Globe Theatre in Perth, The Strokes have just played to a hugely enthusiastic Friday night audience, opening for Australian rock icons You Am I.
While the previous night's performance was alcohol-driven in the best sense, tonight's set is a heads-down, rock-sure outing. It's immediate and somewhat magic and it's not lost on the crowd, who aside from perhaps hearing The Modern Age on the national youth radio network, Triple J, know very little about the band.