UPPER WEST SIDE STORIES
TAKEN FROM NME, JUNE 9, 2001
THE first punch is thrown 30 seconds into The Strokes’ first NME photo session. Their five skinny, leather-clad frames are milling about on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan’s Lower East Side, when someone yells out, “Hey motherfuckers –you’re blocking the whole sidewalk.”
Everyone turns round. There are three kids in hoods, obviously wired up on something, facing the band. A few seconds earlier, they randomly tried to attack a school bus driving down the street. Now they’re staring at us, so guitarist Nick Valensi opts for a spot of diplomacy. He flicks his middle finger and mutters, “Fuck you, man.”
Everything happens at once. A fist swings through the air and catches him on the chest. Drummer Fabrizio Moretti and singer Julian Casablancas enter the fray immediately, quickly joined by bassist Nikolai Fraiture and guitarist Albert Hammond. There’s shoving, and stray punches fly all over the place. Fabrizio catches one square between his shoulders. People strolling down the sidewalk grind to a halt and form a ring around the scuffle. Before anyone’s had time to work out what’s happening, police sirens blare out and the NYPD hits the scene.
Then the pandemonium really breaks out. Everyone starts shoving and swearing and jabbing their fingers into each other. The police pull the groups apart and, after quizzing a handful of passers-by, decide that The Strokes are the injured party. Do they want to press charges? Nick, rubbing his jaw, “Forget it. I just want to get some ice.” The mêlée breaks up, and the band head down the street. Julian turns to NME and smiles, “Welcome to New York…”
IT’S been said before, and we’re guessing it’s going to be said again: The Strokes are so New York, it hurts. They look New York (skinny ties,
