Julian Plenti Is… A Little Bit Late
With the long awaited news that a new Interpol album is due for 2010 comes the perfect opportunity to slyly segue in a little piece about the solo album of frontman Paul Banks, released on August 4th under the pseudonym Julian Plenti. NME points out in the first paragraph of their review of “Julian Plenti Is… Skyscraper” that Paul Banks’ relative anonymity leads to his solo album being “nothing to get your knickers in a twist over”. A wonderful example of the elegant prose of NME writers, of course. However, they are completely right, and this is exactly why it has taken me far too many months to buy the album.
And what prompted me to finally get hold of the album was not an e-mail from a promoter, the Hype Machine’s “popular” list, or even a tip from a friend, but the much under-appreciated “latest” category on hypem.com. As Salacious Sound pointed out in their fantastic article, the “latest” category is probably the best way to find new music on the Hype Machine, because it avoids the many pitfalls of the “popular” chart that only really publicises already established and popular music (funnily enough).
In fact, if I had realised earlier that the “latest” tab is the best place to discover an eclectic and unbiased selection of songs chosen by people who genuinely love music, then I may also have realised a bit earlier that Julian Plenti’s debut album really is something “to get your knickers in a twist over”. “…Skyscraper” opens with the characteristic melancholy of Interpol’s post-punk rock, mixed with Banks’ articulate lyrics which border on the more intriguing side of verbose, without ever slipping into being pretentious. “Only If You Run”, in fact, levels with any Interpol material and would sit very comfortably on any of their albums.
Worries that “…Skyscraper” is just Banks reclining in Interpol mode, though, disappear quickly on the title track, which manages to shake up ethereal The National-esq guitars with the muted vocals of Bon Iver. It’s the perfect introduction to the more fragile side of the album which is continued on slight piano ballad “Madrid Song”, “On The Esplanade” and album closer “H”.
Duplicity is very much a central theme of this album; an idea that is reflected not in the Banks / Plenti confusion and divided nature of the album. Far from being completely incoherent, though, Banks’ natural reversion to melancholy and his outstanding baritone vocals tie the entire album together; Interpol reminiscent guitar rock, piano anthems and acoustic reflections all married together perfectly by him.
Ultimately, his obvious abilities of powerful songwriting and touching lyricism are only relevant thanks to his even more impressive knack to use these skills to create a properly sequential album that doesn’t feel like a collection of Interpol b-sides or Bon Iver cast offs, but a logical succession of varied songs.
Casting off into new directions enough for this solo album to feel necessary and interesting, whilst re-treading faintly familiar ground without becoming hackneyed or repetitive; Banks has struck a near perfect balance between progression and the underappreciated quality of just doing what you’re good at well, leading to an album that has rightly got many knickers in a bit of a twist, including mine. The NME’s, though, are clearly just stuck too far up their own arse.
