Happy 36th birthday Paul Banks of Interpol, co-participant in the single worst interview I’ve ever done as a rock writer. I still have it on tape and if you every wished to torture me, bind me to a chair and make me listen to it. I was not yet a convert but my ex girlfriend Lizzy Goodman later took me to a show at the Bowery Ballroom with Rob Sheffield among others and I finally grokked the greatness of this band. I stopped following some after Carlos D departed but have a fine day Paul anyway and a decade later… sorry, mate. I don’t write about Interpol in the upcoming Twee book, only in the context of the decadent NYC bands being replaced by a different kind of not so debauched, Brooklyn based band, but I de recount that shameful, shameful Spin interview at length in Poseur and it’s like reading about an autopsy of a motor crash victim who’d careened off a country road into a herd of beasts. I still think I might have been a great rock writer if I’d just stayed in bed that day.
This is still my favorite Interpol song. And my favorite city.