"Perhaps", said one reviewer, "Interpol's Paul Banks has created a solo career as Julian Plenti because his host band's sound (By 2007's Our Love To Admire) had run it's course". Too right my friend. Run it's course? that's the diplomatic way of putting it. Bled fucking dry might be a more appropriate comment. Always in the creative wake of fellow New Yorkers The Strokes, Interpol have pulled off the rather neat trick of turning their pompous new wave / post rock meanderings into stadium filling pap. As up it's own miserable arse as Depeche Mode after three months in rehab if you will. We all know that this is neither big or indeed very clever, although it didn't stop The Editors repeating the trick several years later.

Nope, Banks has done the right thing, a hiatus that'll not only save us from hearing his Vaudevillian Curtis approximations for at least another eighteen months, but also because Justin Plenti is.. Skyscraper actually comes across as a fine solo effort, worthy of attention and proving that Kohl doesn't rot the brain after all.

Not of course that there's much cheery birdsong, strummed open chords or lyrics about being head over heels in love, but ..is Skyscraper compared to the Banks we know is clearly lighter in tone and sure of himself enough to reject Interpol's usual ham-fisted, just-make-it-fucking-loud production. There's certainly a willingness as well to experiment, with the spiralling trumpet and psychedelic keys of Unwind recalling the kind of thing Julian Cope might have done had he gone to college in Greenwich Village - and not got fried on acid every night. By contrast, 'Madrid Song' is a slice of what appears to be film dialogue stretched taut over a slow and naked krautrock undertow, Banks' only words being "Come have at us, we are strong" as if in some challenge of otherwordly defiance. It's a piece of arty weirdness, but tells the listener one thing - this is not a performer sweating about ticket sales for an upcoming tour.

Whilst the general nod is understatement ..is Skyscraper does contain two pieces of what might be deemed straight up noughties rock. The stacatto and narrow browed 'Fun That We Have', whilst the brooding 'Games For Days' bears more than a passing resemblance to the jagged chops of Franz Ferdinand. Surprisingly though for somebody as travelled, Banks presents his real soul in the more pastoral moments, such as the title track. Casting aside the bombast via a world weary cello and fireside piano keys. It's a theme of true identity repeated during 'On The Esplanade', a sense of a city boy slowly being becalmed by a seaside town he was never meant to stay in. To complete this picture of a sophisticate unwittingly trapped by simplicity, on the slowburning 'Girl On The Sporting News' the TV becomes a window back into the world he's slipped out of, lust framed with a barely touched guitar and corpulent slap bass.

Solo albums are usually essays in self indulgence by the overly minted and their celebrity friends: Skyscraper is creativity for art's sake, and interesting too. But don't worry Interpol fans: rent has to get paid, and Helena Christensen needs to be kept in shoes, so logic follows that Julian will disappear back down the rabbit hole sooner rather than later.