At the time, looking, sounding, and acting New York were not necessarily considered key attributes for future mainstream rock stars. If anything, it ought to have been marginalizing: Though New York was home to vibrant hip-hop, house, and experimental music scenes in the 90s, its rock scene was largely incoherent and nationally insignificant. The Strokes, with their commitment to idealizing a gritty past the city was working overtime to shed, seemed poised to become, at best, another local cult act, like Cibo Matto, Blonde Redhead, and King Missile before them.
But 9/11 changed everything about New York City, including the fortunes of The Strokes. Suddenly, being “so New York it hurts” no longer only had niche appeal. Supporting the city became a national patriotic pastime at the precise moment when the collective trauma of 9/11 sent many in search of the soothing power of nostalgia. In an era otherwise dominated by California nu-metal and pop-punk, suddenly four greasy-haired New Yorkers in tight jeans and leather jackets were one of the biggest rock bands in the world, ushering a new renaissance for the city’s scene by LARPing its iconic past.
How a group of greasy-haired rich kids ushered in a renaissance for the New York music scene by LARPing its iconic past.