Interpol return to their reflective and thrilling state on This Mirror Weighs a Ton

It’s beguiling in its mystery and complete lack of bombast. There’s an ASMR tingle in the shuffling drums and circular guitar picking. Banks’ voice delivers lyrics as cryptic as ever but the gist appears to be, life is confusing, our inner voices are unreliable narrators and we shouldn’t walk with that pressure. I’m here for it.

You could say that ‘normal’ service is resumed when the strident bass and minor chords that swell in the chorus of “See Out Loud” deliver a taste of Antics-era Interpol. Or even the rowdier Turn On The Bright Lights moments. Twisted hectoring. “5 AM, teeth-marked skin / I can see out loud, and I know / I start to feel pixelated / As we get buried in the sound / Dive right in, a kiss glistens / In a neon cloud, and I know / I will not meet you later / Because I'm never leaving now.“ Even Daniel Kessler squeezes in a verse, it’s genuinely thrilling stuff.

Then we’re back in a reflective mood with a black and white vibed walk around NYC for “Iron City.” Lovelorn and contemplative. That’s it, the boys are back, I'm all set to hang up my metaphorical pen on this review because we’re in prime Interpol territory here…

But... ”Wounded Soldier” drops its haunted, melancholic twang, followed by the disheveled “Wings of Fire”, which at least boasts an interesting intro if little else. Thankfully “Ever The Actor” guides us the half way point with more structure and a sweet orchestrated outro. After this point, however, we’re ushered off into more experimental territory. The mix of instrumentation electronic bleeps, more synth textures and shiny spacey melodies kind of wrestle with each other. There’s a brew of both quirkiness and earnestness that envelops a few songs, some mid-tempo navel gazing fodder that tread water without totally drowning, the very obvious efforts of the band trying to pull them back. The main redeeming factors in the latter stages are the Cora-like twinkling calypso feel on “Wake Up” and the regimented militaristic beats of “Bird and the Serpent.” Unfortunately we still have the dearth of “Sudden” to go, but in context even that bookends the album’s beginning by fading out into the ether.

Interpol have never had any problem conjuring moodiness and that ache of broken love, people or circumstances. Tying these to cohesive stories, engaging vocals and a genuine faith in the songs they put out has been the sticking point since they peaked so epically with their debut. Thankfully this is definitely a return to better fare, even if some moments languish and meander as it plays out.