go home...
Albert: We'd come in with all these bad names - the de Niros, the Rubber Bands, the Motels,  Flattop Freddie and the Purple Canoes - and no one would agree. One day we're in the studio after  practice and Julian said 'the strokes'. And everyone was like 'that sounds great!'. It was that  easy; five guys agreeing. it doesn't really mean anything. We thought it was a cool rock and roll  name. When I first heard it, it sounded so old, like someone would have already taken it but no  one did. Then I looked it up in the dictionary and 'a powerful blow to the face, chest or body'  was the first thing. Perfect. That's exactly what our music is. It's like a powerful blow to the  face.
Julian is back from the jukebox and there are new drinks lined up. He's chosen three dollars of  music: some from The Harder They Come, some not. 'Some Johnny Cash, some Patsy Cline,' he says.  'I'm in a country mood tonight. A let's-get-drunk-and-remember-the-good-old-days mood.'
He is being wry. He insists that he remembers almost nothing of his early life. 'I have a really  vague memory', he murmurs. His parents had met in Paris, his mother was a model from Denmark; his  Spanish father was setting up a modelling agency. They moved to New York where his father started  the Elite model agency and a single son was born.
When he was about 7, his parents' marriage fell apart. This is what he says about it: 'Basically,  when my parents got divorced...I don't know...everything was, I don't know...I'm not trying to  say that's like why...it's just, they got divorced. My mum was fucking miserable and I just lived  with her crying every day and that was my life, so I fucking didn't hate my dad but - I don't  want to say that now because I get along with him now fine, but I did, I did.'
Did you see your father much?
'No. I would see him sometimes, but I didn't like the whole vibe of it because my mum was in  hell. And I was living with my mum. And you know, walk into the bathroom and your mum's fucking  crying and you start crying and it just fucking sucks you know. Whatever...'
He offers other occasional flashes of his youth. When he was 11 or 12, at school in New York, he  realised that his role as the class clown didn't work for him: 'being the clown meant that girls  just wanted to be my friend'. So he changed. 'I remember all of a sudden just being really  serious and all of a sudden girls would like me. it was strange.' He was doing badly in school  and his father suggested he went to the posh Swiss boarding school his father had attended and  loved. His father was European and loved sports; Julian grew up in New York. 'It was a total  clash', Julian says. 'He didn't know. He doesn't like New York that much. See, I love New York.  Hanging out in the street, that's what I wanted to do.'
He hated Switzerland. The weekends were the worst. 'All these kids would go out to town and I  guess my parents didn't give me pocket change or whatever these other kids had, and the whole  weekend was me sitting in my room by myself', he remembers. 'I was just fucking depressed, you  know. I'd walk around. Sometimes I'd play basketball by myself. I did that a lot'.
It was his stepdad, a painter called Sam Adoquei, who showed him the way he would go. He hadn't  been much interested in music, though there was one moment the previous summer when Nikolai  played him a Pearl Jam song, 'Yellow Bedletter'.
'I was like, "Wow, that's pretty and it makes me feel something special that I don't usually feel  that I like to feel",' he recalls. 'It made me feel stronger'. His stepdad gave him a CD: The  Best of the Doors. One weekend he lay on his bed, listening, and he felt like he understood it:  'There was so much different shit - cool instrumental shit, cool lyrical shit, there was some  cool singing stuff. I said "fuck that's what I want to do"'.
Back in New York, released from his Swiss exile, his stepdad would talk to him about art, and  about what makes you a great artist, and about how hard you had to work. he got more into Pearl  Jam, and into Nirvana. 'Everything to do with my life', he says. 'teenage...angst. I'm using the  usual word. I was just totally alone. Totally alone. So many people had friends or were hanging  out, and I would like talk to some people but it was a very alone experience, and hearing Nirvana  and Pearl Jam made me feel...positive about shit. Because beautiful music with lyrics about the  truth of how things can be not great is a powerful thing...It made me feel like, if I put my mind  to it, I could make myself happy. Like I had some help. I hate music where it's, like, "it all  sucks, fuck this,we're gonna die, fuck you, kill yourself", and I hate shit where it's "it's  gonna be alright, everything is just fine". The most powerful aspect of music is that it can open  your eyes to the frustration of everything and give you the adrenaline and faith to gon on with  the ideal that you can make it better if you do your thing.'
By then he'd also met Nick, who played guitar, and taken some guitar lessons himself. The first  song Julian could play, just the bass notes, was Nirvana's "Polly". He went through a phase of  interviewing himself while he was in the shower, as though he was famous. 'I think everyone does  that, don't they?' he says. He would pretend he was making some kind of political speech. One was  about the price of cigarettes.
In the world outside the bathroom, he ran into some problems. The first time he got drunk was  when he was 11, swiping fruity alcohol residues off the table at his father's house with a  friend. (" I think I liked it', he recalls, and adds,'I got all my sins from my dad: drinking,  cheating on women..."any others?' Yeah I don't know lets not talk about that') At school in New  York he would ask friends who had aces to their parents alcohol to bring him drinks, and he would  get wasted in the mornings. 'I got caught drinking whiskey or tequila at 9 am', he remembers.  'Two days a week after school I had to go to some kind of rehab type place. It was called Phoenix  House. You know, rise from the ashes. It was stupid. They'd give me urine tests and stuff.'
At school, he also started studying music. 'I took it so fucking seriously, ridiculously  seriously', he says. 'The only class I got an A in was music.' He got a scholarship to music  college by writing a short classical piece; he asked this Korean guy he knew to play violin and  he borrowed a keyboard from an electronics chain during a 'return it within a month if you don't  like it' promotion. 'People don't understand', he says 'how hard I worked. Really hard, you know  what I mean?' He studied classical composition. 'I always felt that you need to learn the rules  before you could break them. It wasn't like it helped me in rock at all, but it made me realise  what was cheesy, what was typical, what typical chords and scales were, it gave me a foundation  where my original thoughts could actually be original... The one thing that made us good now is  that I realised my whole life I sucked. Always. Everything I did. it sucked. That was the motto  of everything: I suck, I gotta do better. I gotta work harder. That was the motto of music.'
Aside from a one-show band with Fab, Nick and himself called Half Pipe, The Strokes was his first  group. He now dismisses the early strokes songs exchanged by over-eager pop archaeologists on the  internet as "garbage". The first song he wrote which he thought didn't suck was 'Soma'. So far  there have been a little over a dozen of them. But he's not exactly satisfied with these.  'Never', he says. 'That's never going to happen. It's like an exponential curve. You'll get close  to it but you'll never do it.'
Though he writes all of the Strokes songs, he shares all the money from them five ways. 'It  wouldn't work any other way', he says, 'I just want to write great songs, and if they're great  songs I want them to be played great, and I think that we can do it, the five of us, better than  anyone else.'
How equal are The Strokes?
Nick: Completely. Obviously when we're doing musical stuff Julian has the definitive last say but  that doesn't mean it's a dictatorship. We all listen, we all contribute and we all have the same  goal, and when something's good we all agree that it's good. We disagree about small, stupid,  irrelevant things - whether we should fly or drive to Chicago for a show, shit like that.
Fab: There's an understanding between us. There are times when we step back and let one person  make a decision. Different people for different stuff, but a lot of the time it's Julian, I  guess. I'd be an ignorant fool if I didn't realise that Julian is primus inter parus. First among  equals. We are all equal, and Julian is probably the one who most recognises that because he's  the one we all look to.
Albert: Obviously, as of now, Julian writes the songs, and it's probably the most important  thing. I wouldn't want to say how equal we are apart from that though, because that's between us.  When you see us as a band, as an image, you see all of us and you know all of us; that's very  important.
Nikolai: It's like the toy Voltron - a big robot that turns into five animals.
Julian: We're all equal; five different guys. As friends we argue and fight, but when it comes  down to it we all want to be on the same page. Sure I write all the songs. I try to push some  ideas that I feel strongly about. But I don't think there would be a time where they'd be 'you're  wrong, Julian' and I'd just be like 'no, this is how it is'. It just doesn't happen that way. You  try to agree on the same best thing and at the end of the day you're all way stronger.
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