Nearly 20 years after the smashing "Is This It," NYC’s whiny finest make an able-bodied return to form. By A.D. Amorosi Isn’t the next big thing simply the next banal thing hiding in plain sight, waiting to make bad on its best promises?
After a daring debut album and a mostly dazzling but slightly shopworn follow-up, that act will inevitably wear out its welcome and stomp all over its burgeoning legend, fast.
Some chase the dragon of that success, or break up, or stop and wait before moving out of that shadow. They may make daft or dull solo albums — including the drummer, damn it, even the drummer! — that their audience couldn’t care less about.
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