The Strokes Are in My Backyard

In one of the most super secretive shows to ever grace the planet, The Strokes returned to their home turf of New York City for the first time in four year and graced the stage once again as the house band for Tommy Hilfiger's party/fashion show at Lincoln Center as part of the last night of a week long celebration of Fashion Week.

Sitting in my dorm room on a cold, rainy Sunday night left me and my roommates (who are also avid Strokes fans) forced to dedicate massive amounts of concentration to books and documents no one reads anymore. We had our windows open until we heard something reminiscent of "Hard to Explain" come from what sounded like Lincoln Center, which is literally right next door to my school, Fordham University. At first, it sounded like a recording, as if an orchestra had arranged a piece covering "Hard to Explain."

We immediately shunned it, until another Strokes song came on and we heard Julian's voice. We grabbed our coats and flew down the elevator as fast we could because we knew it had to be real. Bolting through the doors of our school, we could hear the music being blasted like an outdoor concert. We sprinted through the rain, our legs getting tense, letting us know we were clearly out of shape. As we ran up the steps to Lincoln Center, we were greeted by a red carpet and what appeared to be a massive party being held inside.

It was indeed, the Strokes; a band for many of us who have inspired and disappointed us, became soundtracks for our growing up, made us learn how to play guitar, and dress in ways we would never think of. They were playing for us not even 100 feet away inside, but hearing them was just as good. We listened outside the doors in the rain as they played "Reptilia" and "Juicebox" to all the movie stars and models.

We were all still pretty beside ourselves that this was a once in a lifetime thing. The Strokes just don't come around like this. I stood proud outside that night, knowing that whoever was walking out as they played, they were making a big mistake. It's one of those memories that I'll have in my head for awhile, it's almost theatrical in a way: hearing one of our favorite bands, running through the rain, being denied to get inside, seeing our faces, realizing this is actually happening--all in my backyard of New York City.

Supposedly, it was reported that as he ended the set, Julian said into the mike, "Thanks. We had fun."

Well Julian, we had fun too.

--Mike