Though best known for his sartorial splendor, Interpol`s Daniel

FEATURE
BY ROB O’CONNOR
Though best known for his sartorial splendor, Interpol’s
Daniel Kessler bobs and weaves like a scantily clad prizefighter, avoiding an interviewer’s best jabs while solidly
PIETER VAN HATTEM
landing his own knockout punches. With the release of
52 PLAYLIST WINTER 2005
the group’s second album, Antics, this past fall, Kessler knows there will
be no shortage of questions regarding the sudden brightening of his band’s
sound. Its first album, 2002’s ironically titled Turn On the Bright Lights, was
a dark elegy with a cold, steely sound that immediately inspired comparisons to the late great 1970s post-punkers and early goth-rockers Joy Division. Antics is kinder and gentler, and likely to bring names such as Roxy
Music or Echo & the Bunnymen into the conversation.
But Kessler, the band’s guitarist and chief songwriter, isn’t playing along
and he isn’t naming names. “I don’t think in terms of influences as far as
this band [goes],” he says from a hotel room in London, where Interpol is
performing a few intimate shows. “I’m never going to sit down and be
like, ‘I’m really into this music and it’s going to show in what I’m playing.’
It doesn’t work that way. Our parameters are wide, more so than the press
or our fans are aware. Everything is fair game if we’re all four into it.”
Kessler formed the group in 1998 while studying at New York University,
carefully piecing together his very own musical jigsaw puzzle by interviewWINTER 2005 PLAYLIST 53
FEATURE
“
I never had terrible,
terrible records.
Well, I did have a
Bananarama 12-inch.
DA N I E L K E S S L E R
”
ing the unusual pieces around him. “I cared not more
about how good a musician, but more about their personality,” he explains. In search of that indefinable chemistry
that the best bands have, he says, “I wanted to close my eyes
and let someone else do something beyond one man’s filter. I wanted a band in the classic sense of the word.”
And a band in the classic sense he got. The other members of Interpol aren’t Kessler’s backing group, but his
partners in sound, creating cinematic landscapes for singer-guitarist Paul Banks’s lyrics.
The band also displays a certain harmony in
its visual style. These four gents—all tailored
suits and dry-cleaning bills out the per diem—
would do Brian Ferry proud. Whereas most
bands scrunch up hot and sweaty in a cramped touring
van, the men of Interpol somehow avoid perspiring and
keep their suits crisp and creases sharp. Kessler claims his
style is only natural; he takes his cue from the elegant
French films of the 1960s. “It’s just a different era that’s
really not the way people are today,” he says. “I’ve been
dressing like this for a long time, so I wouldn’t know any
other way.” As for the rest of the band, he adds, “Everyone
had a definite sense on how they wanted to dress. We
never discussed it. Maybe it’s why we fit together.”
Whether the band’s look and sound are carefully
crafted or the result of like-minded individuals striking
a common chord, the bottom line is that Kessler is a
man consumed by music. He spent his first six years in
London, his next five in the French countryside, and his
adolescence in Washington, D.C. “I had two older
brothers always very passionate about music,” he
explains. “It was the most important thing in their life,
and in mine, maybe the most consistent factor. I always
felt music was as important as a religion.” He adds,
sounding unconvinced, “There probably are people out
there who put on music as background music.”
Rumor has it there are, but no one in Interpol can claim such a casual
relationship. If anything, Kessler uses the other members of the band to
augment his own musical knowledge. When he first met bassistkeyboardist Carlos D., Kessler played him the eventual Interpol track
“PDA” and was encouraged by D.’s insight. “He immediately added
something to it that I hadn’t thought of. I write with feel but he has a
background in theory,” admits Kessler.
Kessler’s earliest music lessons were in record collecting, where he studied the finer points of the Jam, the Clash, and the Dischord Records
punk scene in Washington, D.C. Trying to uncover something tacky in
his collection—say, a Doobie Brothers album purchased in an adolescent
identity crisis, a Limp Bizkit CD succumbed to while temporarily
insane—is an exercise in endurance for the interviewer. “I knew all about
these [underground] bands and then I got into a classic rock phase. I got
into Hendrix and Zeppelin,” he says, again sidestepping the punch.
“I never had terrible, terrible things. . . . Well, I did have a Bananarama
12-inch.” Finally! In the 15th round!
But Kessler wasn’t fooled for long—buyer’s remorse doesn’t sit
well with our man in black. “It’s like buying clothes that you’re
never going to wear,” he says. “You try it on once. I hate it so
much—that feeling when you buy something and then you get it
home and you’re like, ‘Why the fuck did I buy that?’ I had a friend
who would just buy an album and try it out. Even then [as a youngster], I would never waste my money taking a chance like that.”
ROB O’CONNOR is the reviews editor of Harp magazine and recently
contributed a chapter to Kill Your Idols (Barricade, 2004), a book skewering classic rock.
Crimes of Fashion
Macally
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The men of Interpol are oh so tasteful,
but c’mon, guys—a little trashiness
won’t kill ya. Here are a few bands
we’d love to see them share a dressing room with.
6
RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS
Performing live wearing nothing but
a sock on your twig and berries—
now that’s taking minimalism to the
extreme. Coincidence or not, fashion maven George Clinton (see
also Parliament at right) produced Freaky Styley, the band’s second album. While historians may debate for ages whether the
Peppers actually coined the term “Rock out with your cock out,”
you can enjoy the fruits of their labor on their cover of Stevie
Wonder’s “Higher Ground” (Mother’s Milk).
6
ANGEL
Was KISS’s name really an acronym for
Knights in Satan’s Service? We’ll never know,
but in the mid-1970s suddenly an Angel
appeared—on the same record label as KISS!
Simply divine in white satin jumpsuits—
complete with wings!—and enough feathered
hair to guarantee flight, they spread heavymetal peace through heavenly lyrics like
“Winter is here/It’s the coldest time of year”
(“The Winter Song,” White Hot).
54 PLAYLIST WINTER 2005
7
PAUL REVERE & THE RAIDERS
It might have been easier for Paul Revere to change his given
name. Instead he saddled his soldiers of misfortune with shame
and psychotherapy bills. “Guys? The good news is we’ve got
these groovy jacket-and-tights combos for the whole band.
The bad news is we’ve only got three pairs of boots, one
pair of shoes, and two codpieces. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”
At least the band redeemed itself with
crunchy mid-1960s pop-rock hits like “Kicks”
from Paul Revere & the Raiders: Greatest Hits.
5
THE REPLACEMENTS
Any slob knows that plaid is good for hiding
stains. Considering the ’Mats’ history of
drunken escapades, it’s not hard to imagine
those jackets spent at least part of the
night in a puddle of God Knows What.
The Replacements may have worn it dank,
but they definitely wore it well. Hear some
of Paul Westerberg’s make-up tips on the
classic “Little Mascara” from Tim.
7
PARLIAMENT
George “I make James Brown look perfectly
sane” Clinton had a vision: assemble a rotating
cast of freaks with names like Bootsy and Catfish to bring “the Funk” to Earthlings everywhere through songs about bop guns, war
babies, and aliens. Uh, right on. The band’s attire
made even less sense: glittery robes, giant sunglasses, and—in some cases—adult diapers.
“P. Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)” (The Best
of Parliament—Give Up the Funk) is proof that
they weren’t exactly the martini set.
—DYLAN GAUGHAN, ROB O’CONNOR, AND MISSY ROBACK
WINTER 2005 PLAYLIST 55