Interpol

Fuck the Strokes. If you want to dial into the real future of rock ’n’ roll, at least the post-Velvets kind as defined by the current wave of fashionable bands coming out of New York, this quartet’s new offering is what’s for dinner. This three-song EP clocks in at just over 16 minutes, which means that these tunes are not quickie get-in/get-out punk-rock slambangs; there’s plenty of nodding-off room in these supple grooves. “PDA” pulsates along with a four-on-the-floor architecture that ripples with tensile strength, with rigidly flagellated guitars that oscillate like Philip Glass on a Pokémon-watching bender before bursting full flower (opium, natch) into the glorious refrain, “We have 200 couches where you can sleep tonight.” Mm-hmm. Gimme more. “NYC” has a John Cale-ish classical feel, and “Specialist” builds into a defrocked cathedral of wicked guitars. Full album in August. Can’t wait.