The veteran band’s latest album is an at times thrilling, often inscrutable, sometimes straight-up bizarre addition to their story
The Strokes’ stock is pretty high in 2026, definitely higher than it was in 2016, and maybe even 2006. This year marks the 25th anniversary of their classic debut, Is This It? Their recent tour, the band’s first in 20 years, saw them light up a multigenerational audience of young olds and old youngs. Their standing isn’t only based on nostalgia either: Though the last Strokes album, 2020’s The New Abnormal, got a little lost in the Covid malaise, its standout hit, “The Adults Are Talking,” has as many Spotify streams as “Last Nite.” Meanwhile, the biggest indie band around, Geese, is undeniably post-post-Strokes, even if the band members were still in their strollers back when Julian, Albert, Fab, Nick, and Nikolai owned the night. Not a bad legacy to keep rolling into your second quarter century.
Millions of people would love some good new Strokes bangers (“Can Julian Casablancas and the Strokes Really Save Rock & Roll?” wonders a recent headline in The Irish Times). Listening to their seventh record, one gets the sense that the band itself is only theoretically engaged by that specific proposition. Reality Awaits is an at times enjoyable, often inscrutable, sometimes straight-up bizarre addition to the band’s story.
