In 2002, Karen O was on fire. I fondly remember seeing her band, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, open for Sleater Kinney that fall in what was then called Irving Plaza. She was electric; nothing could touch her or contain her, and the same could pretty much be said for the band's first full-length, released the following year.
Then, a funny thing happened: Karen O and her band mates aged. Same thing happened to the Strokes, another tectonic-plates-shifting downtown band, but the Yeah Yeah Yeahs have handled it far better. Not only are they still a band, but a couple of months ago, they released one of the best records I've heard this year. Over time, the band has shifted from cheerful bluster to maturity, and have struck the right notes. There are a lot more synthesizers, keyboards and drum machines this time, but in a carefully composed, refreshing way. The song "Maps," a relative commercial success from that debut record, the one where Karen O implored, "Wait! They don't love you like I love you," showed the Yeah Yeah Yeahs could write a heartfelt, penetrating ballad whenever they wanted to. Now, it seems, that's what they want to do almost all the time and it works.
Karen O's style used to be hipster hedonism for the sake of hipster hedonism. She still wears the wackiest, most enviable outfits, but there's something different about her these days. Rather than using her body to clear out her own space onstage, as she used to do, her movements and personality are now designed to drawn you in. As she's aged (and she turns 31 on Sunday), it's almost like she's come to value true friends and the wonder of leaning on them for support, all while staying unpredictable. I want to be that kind of old.
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