Marauder

So the album sees Interpol trying some new things, leaning on some preconceptions and loosening some of the ties which have previously bound. And it makes Marauder an extremely rewarding listen.

Marauder takes the punchy, warm sound of 2014 predecessor ‘El Pintor’ and folds in some much darker, more menacing flourishes.

For Interpol, embracing their veteran status doesn't mean a slide into complacency; if anything, it's the opposite. Marauder doesn't need to be qualified in terms of the band's former successes--on its own terms, it's one of the richest albums of Interpol's career.

‘Stay In Touch’ is a hip-shaking highlight, and the one true surprise here, but largely Marauder simply sees Interpol proving their worth once again, and their prowess for creating bleak, blackened indie rock that’s full of feeling.

Raw but refined, familiar but resolutely strange, Marauder seizes that fine balance of retaining the old while introducing the new; the sound of a band at ease with themselves, it could well be Interpol’s finest album in a decade.

A mature album, rather than the work of people hemmed in by their past, cowed by the sense that they can never hope to be as exciting as they were on arrival. That’s something that most of their noughties NYC peers have thus far failed to achieve. It’s the sound of a band who have done the last thing you might expect them to do at this stage of their career: start moving on.

Their sixth album, Marauder, is their most experimental to date, blending everything from rough garage rock to Motown rhythms. They’re reinvigorated, brimming with energy and self-assurance.

Like every Interpol record, listening to Marauder is a draining experience for the right reasons. Their sound is designed to deflate, to alienate, to offer no resolution, to poke and prod at your most depressive tendencies.

These measured musical and lyrical tangents complement more than contrast the album's thematic focus on reckless impulsivity. Rather than simply dwelling on the potential for ruin, the band acknowledges the euphoria that can greet those who follow their whims, resulting in an album that crackles with the energy of embracing life's unpredictable turns.

They know their limits, and while they are prepared to test them, gently, Marauder isn't in the market for revelation. With songs this subtle and steely, though, reinforcement is good enough. [Sep 2018, p.87]

Marauder is not the sound of a group chasing lost sounds or long ago glories, rather it is a band detaching itself from its past, from a time that has long defined them; it is the sound of growing older, closer and more open. [Sep 2018, p.108]

Like a wild party, the album gets looser and less coherent as it goes along. Still, fans should be pleased to hear that Marauder shifts the group’s focus while still remaining recognizably Interpol.

All in all, Marauder to me are the B-sides from Turn On... not perfect, not weak but with some trimming of the fat, songs that could have fit right in on its deluxe edition.

Marauder is a solid record with several decent tracks that will make it a welcome addition to the group's discography.

Marauder is still Interpol, and it’s still pretty good. It’s got mood and emotion for days. But because the album is marred by nonexistent bass lines and, most concerningly, production and mixing choices that run completely at odds with Interpol’s natural strengths and most beloved idiosyncrasies, it’s nowhere near great.

[“If You Really Love Nothing” is] one of Interpol’s best recent songs, but its standard proves difficult to maintain on what is in many ways a typically hit-and-miss latter-day Interpol album.