After four albums it's abundantly clear that Interpol will never sound quite like they did on their stellar debut Turn On The Bright Lights, nor will they ever sound all that different from it, either. The band's recent self-titled record (and last with bassist Carlos Dengler) finds Interpol struggling to capture something elusive, some mix of intensity and otherworldly beauty. Mostly they lean on the same conventions that have served them their entire career. As with Antics and Our Love To Admire, if you didn't like Interpol right out of the gate you won't change your mind with this album. Likewise, if you've stuck with the band through all of their work, you'll probably enjoy Interpol just fine.

Interpol occurs in two distinct halves. The opening segment is more rock-centered and insistent while the second half is more dour and experimental. The band's trademark sharp guitar work has dulled somewhat but they embraced layers on this album more than ever. They sound focused but also a little tired. There are no soaring notes and the drumming, while still decently acrobatic, doesn't have as much moxie as pure workmanlike steadiness.

It's this feeling of orchestrated, directed and slickly produced music that has really dragged Interpol away from the unique energy of Bright Lights. Nothing here sounds ramshackle or spontaneous. There's no steam or excitement in the record, just a series of increasingly thick tracks that are competent, if not inspired. While there have been at least one or two stand-out tracks on the previous two albums ("Not Even Jail" on Antics and "Pace is the Trick" on Our Love To Admire), the first five tracks on Interpol are all equally good and equally level throughout. Somewhere between albums, Paul Banks decided to drop his love of the slow burn in favor of sustained chants. In all honesty, I'd prefer one chilling triumph over five walls of sound.

On its own merits the second half of Interpol is more interesting, though not as immanently catchy. These songs are more opaque and experimental, diving into the keyboards and studio tricks the band has been playing around with for a few years now. In its best moments the back five tracks sound like something off of David Bowie's Diamond Dogs. It gets darker, stranger and in some cases downright funereal. At its worst (re: "Try It On") it sounds like Coldplay on heroin. This experimentation could yield some interesting work from Interpol in the future. That is, if they haven't already begun to fall apart.

Carlos Dengler's departure may give Interpol a shot in the arm when it comes time to record new material. As with all bands, the loss of a founding member can have a transformative effect on those who remain. While this fourth, self-titled album isn't exactly exciting, it's also not quite grounds to give up on Interpol just yet. If they produce another album that sounds like this one, though, it'll be a sign that it's time to put this post-punk outfit out to pasture.