Interpol seemed to access from the forehead of David Bowie about 2001, a New Wave daydream appear true: blatant goth guitars, an animal-nitrate accent section, Paul Banks' blithely asinine balladry and the funniest gay-bullfighter appearance crimes aback Bryan Ferry apparent capri pants. These days, the night-crawling New York boys are aural a lot like R.E.M., and Our Adulation to Admire is their adaptation of R.E.M.'s Fables of the Reconstruction; afterwards an alternate admission and an aggressively electricfollow-up, here's the solid, chaste third anthology that address in after aggravating to breach new ground. Some songs hit appropriate away, like the berserk "Mammoth" and the icy carol "The Scale," area Banks snarls, "I fabricated you, and now I yield you back." But it takes some time to array the growers ("All Fired Up," "Pace Is the Trick") from the losers ("Rest My Chemistry"). And for those of us who flavor the convolutions of Banks' agreeable drivel, there's "No I in Threesome," which turns out to be not a Fall Out Boy outtake but a stomach-challengingly aboveboard adulation song ("Babe, it's time we gave something new a try"). It proves Interpol areone bandage that should never attack coherence.
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