Those mad Moldy Peaches The Strokes We tried to come up with a funny caption for this photo, but in the end the best we managed was some bad hairdresser jokes.

Without a doubt, The Strokes have been hyped to death. For the last few months, I've heard tales of an incredible live show, along with rave reviews of their debut album, Is This It. Even more absurdly, with such raves come seemingly absurd questions, such as whether they, rather than an act like Radiohead, deserve to headline next year's Glastonbury festival, or if they could be the band that saves rock 'n' roll, as Nirvana did a decade ago.

Having read much of the hype, I was curious. In large part, I assumed much of it to be the product of an overexcited press -- the fawning of English rock critics who, truth be told, have rarely exercised restraint in the past. Nonetheless, part of me hoped that the advance press would be true, that The Strokes would be the next band to wash away the kiddy pop and rap-metal of recent times, and help to redefine a stagnating genre.

The tiny Cabaret du musee du rire, which holds only a few hundred people, was filled to capacity by a variety of old-school punks, hipsters and curious music lovers such as myself. Given that the album has yet to be released to Canadian audiences, most were present because of the aforementioned hype.

Openers The Moldy Peaches were, for lack of a better word, interesting. Most of their songs were based on simple, completely unrelated couplets, sung by the duo of Kimya Dawson, dressed as a Thundercat (an '80s cartoon) and Adam Green, dressed like a '60s bohemian. They were complemented by a caveman drummer, a judge on lead guitar, Spiderman on bass, and an acoustic guitarist in a dress. The music was equally eclectic, sounding like a strange mixture of rock, white-boy rap, country and folk. Some songs, such as "Who's Got The Crack", were outstanding; any song that features the line "I am a goat/In a moat/With a boat/Who's got the crack" is all right by me. Others, like "Rainbows", were obscenely funny ("You've got to have rain to have a rainbow/You've got to have dick to have a dick in your mouth").

After a brief set and a quick changeover, The Strokes took the stage. With minimal banter, a 40 minute set, and lead singer Julian Casablancas stumbling around the stage looking like an overdose waiting to happen, the show should have been a huge let-down.

But it wasn't. In fact, it may have been the best show I've ever seen. Never before have I left a show feeling I had just witnessed a pivotal moment in music history. Not only did the band manage to live up to their advance hype, they surpassed it. The musicianship was tight; bassist Nikolai Fraiture provides extremely solid, even funky, grooves, while lead guitarist Nick Valensi is amazingly good. But it is Casablancas who pulls it all together. He is a dynamic frontman, blessed with a voice that sounds like a cross between Iggy Pop and Jim Morrison, and a presence that seems every bit the tortured artist.

Hearkening back to the pre-punk of MC5 or Iggy and the Stooges in the early 1970s, The Strokes' music is infused with an energy rarely found in modern times. Every song was greeted by enthusiastic dancing by the audience (which included members of the Moldy Peaches), rather than any sort of frenzied moshing. "Barely Legal", for example, built up nicely before exploding into a (very catchy) chorus, while the currently controversial "New York City Cops" channeled all the energy of Iggy Pop's "Lust For Life". Undoubtedly, though, the highlight of the show was "Last Nite", which got the audience singing along -- and which is all the more impressive when one considers that few would have heard the album version yet. During the final song, "The Modern Age", Casablancas threw his mic stand to the ground and collapsed beside it, nearly screaming the words into his microphone.

I left with a different outlook on the world -- a belief that a rock renaissance is about to happen, which will see the hordes of teeny boppers and rap-metal bands washed away, if only for a few months before the record labels seek to cash in. For 40 minutes I was transported, seeing a band poised for a massive breakthrough and showing why they deserve every breathless word written about them, and more. In ten years, when they've changed the direction of rock music, I know I'll look back on this show and realize I saw the initial rumblings of something great.

Article and photos by Matthew Pollesel.