The Walkmen were one of the first indie rock bands to undergo a now standard flirtation with the mainstream: a song in a commercial and a performance on “The O.C.”
The New York City band formed in 2000. But some people have always dismissed the Walkmen just another retro garage rock band.
With their recently released third album, “A Hundred Miles Off,” lead singer Hamilton Leithauser hopes they'll finally be considered unique.
“I don't think people will say this one sounds like the Strokes, but I wouldn't be surprised,” he says with a shrug. “What are you going to do.”
The Walkmen emerged from the fallout of two '90s bands: the Recoys and Jonathan Fire Eater, a critical favorite that never quite panned out as hyped. Leithauser and bassist Pete Bauer came from the Recoys; Paul Maroon (guitar, organ), Walter Martin (piano) and Matt Barrick (drums) came out of Jonathan Fire Eater. (Martin, 31, and Leithauser, 28, also are cousins.)
But all five have known each other since childhood, growing up the Washington, D.C., area. They were in bands by middle school, though separated by several grades.
When their groups broke up several years later around the same time, combining forces was natural.
“Everybody came to college in New York because they wanted to be a band in New York,” says Leithauser, 28. “But most of us just dropped out right when we got here, just to do the band.”
Their 2002 debut, “Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me is Gone,” was well-received and the track “We've Been Had” landed in a Saturn commercial. But their 2004 album, “Bows and Arrows,” was an artistic breakthrough.
The disc revealed a band that had realized their sound, which is led by gravely, often wistful singing, alternately shouted and crooned above shimmering guitar, twinkling piano and Barrick's expert, tambourine-heavy drumming. The album made many critics top 10 lists (including this writer's), and many viewed the single “The Rat” as one of the decade's most throttling rock tunes.
The Walkmen have always used vintage instruments and amplifiers that mostly predate 1970 — which helps produce a textured sound of elegant grit. Comparisons usually run in the vein of U2 or Bruce Springsteen — or, as one magazine wrote, “Bob Dylan fronting the Velvet Underground.”
This time around, the critical response for “A Hundred Miles Off” has been mixed. Some consider it a step backward for the band, while others, like Billboard Magazine, have written that the album “proves this is a band for the ages.”
Regardless, Leithauser says he and his bandmates are certain this is their best, most consistent effort yet.
“I feel like it's more of a record to put on and listen to from start to finish. I think the songwriting is better,” he says. “Now, we feel more confident than ever.”
“A Hundred Miles Off” begins with “Louisiana,” the first single and a breezy, laid-back song (penned pre-Katrina) featuring doleful horns that announce the album's up-tempo leanings.
The highlight may be “All Hands and the Cook,” with which they have been opening recent concerts. It begins with thumping menace and a few lyrics closer to barking than singing. But halfway through, it suddenly turns warm and relents: “I got a temper and it's late ... Burn down the room when I'm asleep.”
Leithauser's gravely shriek — which is increasingly drawing comparisons (both positive and negative) to Dylan's — is fast becoming less a choice than a fact of life: “I used to be able to do it on purpose, but now I can't get away from it. I think it's probably from screaming my brains out every night.”
A novel ideaThe Walkmen can sometimes blend into the indie rock scene — one without downtown style or much of a gimmick besides an old piano and some vintage six-strings.
But they are, almost certainly, the only band writing a book.
For two years, they have been working on a comedic novel titled “John's Journey,” and have posted excerpts on their Web site. It already has cover art with a photograph of a lonesome wheat field and the title, under which is printed “a novel, by The Walkmen.”
They have also cut a cover album of the 1974 album “Pussy Cats” by Harry Nilsson and John Lennon, which they plan to release later this year. It was recorded as a farewell to their Harlem studio, Marcata, which has since been taken over by Columbia University.
Undeterred by the loss, the band already has several new songs, which Leithauser says are more piano-based, like some of their older work.
Currently on tour, the Walkmen say they're generally comfortable with their level of success.
“We'll take whatever we get,” says Martin. “We'll just do what we do and it'd be great if we were playing Madison Square Garden, but I would be very surprised.”
Anyway, they wonder what else they would do.
Says Leithauser: “I got no backup plan, you know?”