By 2009, The Strokes were in a critical coma. First Impressions of Earth (2006) had splintered their cool-kid consensus, and the band was mired in label drama, infighting, and silence. The world expected Julian Casablancas—the aloof leather-clad oracle of Lower East Side rock revival—to either save guitar music or crash dramatically.
The album’s title itself— Phrazes for the Young —is a winking twist on Oscar Wilde’s Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young , replacing wisdom with misspelled, fragmented slogans for a generation that doesn’t trust complete sentences. Julian Casablancas - Phrazes for the Young -200...
It also directly led to The Voidz’s glorious chaos and, indirectly, to The Strokes’ eventual comeback ( The New Abnormal ) by reminding everyone: Julian doesn’t owe you a second Room on Fire . He owes you his strange, unfiltered id. By 2009, The Strokes were in a critical coma
Forget the blown-out garage crunch. Phrazes is a glitter-bomb of Juno-60 synths, mariachi trumpets, doo-wop backing vocals, and Casablancas’ most exposed vocal takes. It’s what happens when a punk romantic falls in love with 80s new wave (think Rio -era Duran Duran), country twang, and existential despair—then runs it through a MIDI keyboard at 3 a.m. The album’s title itself— Phrazes for the Young
Phrazes for the Young isn’t a masterpiece. It’s better: it’s a fascinating failure of ambition that accidentally predicted the next decade of rock’s synth-soaked loneliness. Listen to it as a solo album, but better yet—listen to it as a manifesto: “Don’t be a coconut.” Be the weird guy with the vocoder and the Nietzsche complex.
Instead, he built a futuristic cabaret in his head and called it Phrazes for the Young .
By 2009, The Strokes were in a critical coma. First Impressions of Earth (2006) had splintered their cool-kid consensus, and the band was mired in label drama, infighting, and silence. The world expected Julian Casablancas—the aloof leather-clad oracle of Lower East Side rock revival—to either save guitar music or crash dramatically.
The album’s title itself— Phrazes for the Young —is a winking twist on Oscar Wilde’s Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young , replacing wisdom with misspelled, fragmented slogans for a generation that doesn’t trust complete sentences.
It also directly led to The Voidz’s glorious chaos and, indirectly, to The Strokes’ eventual comeback ( The New Abnormal ) by reminding everyone: Julian doesn’t owe you a second Room on Fire . He owes you his strange, unfiltered id.
Forget the blown-out garage crunch. Phrazes is a glitter-bomb of Juno-60 synths, mariachi trumpets, doo-wop backing vocals, and Casablancas’ most exposed vocal takes. It’s what happens when a punk romantic falls in love with 80s new wave (think Rio -era Duran Duran), country twang, and existential despair—then runs it through a MIDI keyboard at 3 a.m.
Phrazes for the Young isn’t a masterpiece. It’s better: it’s a fascinating failure of ambition that accidentally predicted the next decade of rock’s synth-soaked loneliness. Listen to it as a solo album, but better yet—listen to it as a manifesto: “Don’t be a coconut.” Be the weird guy with the vocoder and the Nietzsche complex.
Instead, he built a futuristic cabaret in his head and called it Phrazes for the Young .