Interpol Credit: James Medina

It’s hard to think of another band that defined turn-of-the-century indie-rock hipness quite like Interpol. Taking the stage dressed in crisp three-piece suits and hammering out emotionless, crystalline postpunk with a strong nod to Joy Division, they’d set the blueprint for how young New York bands should look and feel by the time of the breakout success of their debut full-length, 2002’s Turn on the Bright Lights. In retrospect, it’s strange to think about what direction indie rock would have taken in those days if they hadn’t made such an indelible mark. By the next decade, that buttoned-up aesthetic had given way to other trends and scenes, but though the Interpol hype train slowed down some, the band never stopped putting out records. On their sixth full-length, last summer’s Marauder (Matador), Interpol sound like they’re aging nicely; they lay out their signature straightforward postpunk revival grooves with a bit more warmth and soul than ever before. Interpol have never attempted to reinvent themselves to fit the time, and that’s fine—with Marauder, they show the world that if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.   v