After nearly twenty years of creating music, inclusive of a four year hiatus, New York City’s Interpol has produced an astonishingly flat album: El Pintor. At best, El Pintor is pedestrian; at worst, it is banal, unimaginative, and something of a cop-out. Perhaps it was the hiatus (2009-2013) that threw the band off kilter. Quite possibly, they are losing their touch, or maybe, after gathering such an ardent fan-base for nearly two decades, they merely stopped trying. Reminiscent to a bad amalgam between The Strokes and R.E.M., it sounds promising. The ultimate result, however, lacks any novelty. Upon first listening through the album, I initially had the impression that I had heard it somewhere before. This is, of course, because the album is indistinguishable from any other run-of-the-mill alternative rock album out there. In fact, what is probably most disheartening about El Pintor is not necessarily that it’s bad, but that it left me with no[...]