It’s easy to bash the Strokes. They’re too damn good looking, the front man can’t really sing and occasionally their influences and pilfered riffs are maybe a tad easy to recognise. Worst of all, their Swiss finishing school childhoods and Manhattan zipcode residences mean every critic sporting one of Harry Ramsden’s finest on his or her shoulder can gleefully pop an inky cap in the skinny five piece’s collective ass, for the crime of services to the silver spoon industry. But, without wishing to sound like Neil from the Young Ones, maybe it’s time we all stepped back and like, well, chilled out, er, man. You know, give the band a break, cos like, First Impressions of Earth is really rather good. Much more consistent and better produced than their offering from 2003 (Room on Fire), and more varied than their 2001 debut (Is This It), it’s also as long as both of its predecessors combined. For a third album it’s far from the offering of a band running out of tunes or ideas.

Ok, it’s a fair cop that once again you can tickbox your way through a list of other artists’ work. So, yes, highlight Heart in a Cage, with its punked up rhythm could have come from Iggy’s Lust For Life sessions, first single Juicebox, is a garage racer with more than a passing acquaintance to the Batman Theme, and the chorus of Razor Blade is basically stolen from Barry Manilow’s soppy hit Mandy (beefed up reggae-stylee, it works though). But they’re bloody good and others see the band wandering into new territory. Well, new for them, anyway. Ask Me Anything is a lovely bleepy organ led effort with soothing spoken vocals, that could easily pass off as the Magnetic Fields. The much derided Electricityscape is an 80s style number with a hook that soars to the pop heavens and is a heck of a lot better than some po-faced scribes would have you believe. Meanwhile 15 Minutes is actually four and a half minutes of Shane MacGowan style drawled vocals and maudlin lyrics. Additonally there’s probably nothing amongst the remaining tracks that Johnny Borrell wouldn’t sell his nan for.

Ignore its one major deficiency, the lyrics (“Took a shit, it was fine”, “Don't be a coconut, God is trying to talk to you”, etc) if you can, and with the vocals quite high in the mix, it may be occasionally difficult, you have a genuine, ridiculously early, contender for Album of the Year, 2006. Say it loud, you love the little rich kids, and be proud…

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