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The Strokes are back after six years, and they didn’t come out swinging. They came out looking a little tired. ‘Lonely in the Future’ — track three, side A of their seventh album ‘Reality Awaits’ — is, to my ears, the song on the record that says the most about where this band actually is in 2026. This is the sound of a band who got there first, and now knows exactly what that costs — anger traded in for a loose, danceable shrug. A fuzzed-out bass threatens a wall of noise for about ten seconds, then the song just… slides sideways into a groove you could move your shoulders to. That fake-out is basically the thesis.
Key facts
- Track 3, side A of The Strokes’ 7th studio album ‘Reality Awaits’, released June 26, 2026 on Cult Records / RCA.
- Produced by Rick Rubin — his second Strokes record after 2020’s ‘The New Abnormal’ — recorded in Costa Rica. Nine tracks, 41:02 total.
- Lead singles were ‘Going Shopping’ (April 7) and ‘Falling out of Love’ (May 13). ‘Lonely in the Future’ wasn’t a single, but blew up online right after the album dropped.
- Julian Casablancas name-checks The Weeknd, Drake, Harry Styles, John Legend, Josh Groban, and critic Anthony Fantano — enough for international press to frame it as a loose ‘diss track.’
- Previous album ‘The New Abnormal’ (March 2020) won the Grammy for Best Rock Album.
Why a non-single became the talking point
Let’s get one thing out of the way. ‘Lonely in the Future’ was never sent out as a single. Still, the moment ‘Reality Awaits’ landed, Billboard, Stereogum, Slant, Consequence — the whole rotation — went straight to this song. Billboard Canada framed it as The Strokes taking shots at Harry Styles, The Weeknd, and Drake. The names help, obviously. But that’s not the whole reason. The real reason, I think, is that this is the song on the album that sounds most like The Strokes.
Scotland’s SNACK magazine went furthest on that read, calling it the most Strokes-sounding track on the record — jangly guitars, a fuzzy bass, warm energy, three minutes that stick to the inside of your head. Which is telling. While most critics chased the name-drops, a sound-first writer went for the bones first. Usually a good sign.
Some context. ‘Reality Awaits’ came out June 26, 2026 via RCA and Cult Records, running 41:02 across nine songs, cut in Costa Rica with Rick Rubin producing. Rubin’s second Strokes record, after 2020’s Grammy-winning ‘The New Abnormal.’ Six years between albums is a long time. In that gap, listeners’ ears drifted, and a wave of younger bands built careers on some version of “the Strokes thing.” A lot of the mood on this record — especially this song — feels like a response to that pile-up.
Too tired to really be a diss track
Calling this a 2020s diss track is half right and half wrong. Yes, the names are there. The Weeknd, Drake, Harry Styles — artists who, from Casablancas’s angle, borrowed something from the room The Strokes built. Songfacts pointed at the sonic overlap between ‘Blinding Lights’ and ‘Hard To Explain,’ and read one line as a jab that Harry Styles took “that beat” for ‘As It Was.’
But the tone. Nobody’s yelling. One critical read framed it like this: Casablancas paints artistic vision as isolation rather than victory, and under the surface put-downs there’s a resignation, something closer to melancholy. That tracks. This isn’t a middle-aged rocker glaring at the kids. It’s the guy who arrived at the party first, sitting in the waiting room while everyone else catches up. The title says it flat out — the future is a lonely place. Catch up if you want. He’s not thrilled either way.
The other line worth flagging is the Anthony Fantano one. A rock song naming a specific YouTube critic — quoting him “word for word,” telling him to stay in his lane on the technical stuff — is a small but genuinely new sight. Rock has always talked back to critics. Doing it to a YouTube-era reviewer, by name, on an album track, is a different flavor of scene.
Auto-Tune meets the most Strokes-y guitar on the record
Now the sound. This is where opinions split. Slant was rough on the Auto-Tune across the album — even on this song, which they granted was funky, they called the processed vocals irritating. Consequence took the opposite view: after the ten-second noise fake-out, they heard a syncopated, dance-friendly groove with auto-crooned vocals riding on top, breezy and fun. Same track. “Unbearable” vs. “a jam.” I actually think that split is the design.
Here’s my read. The Auto-Tune isn’t correction. It’s a coating. It turns the vocal into something metallic on purpose. By presenting his voice as an artifact, Casablancas walks into the exact sonic room the artists he’s naming live in — the room where pitch-corrected vocals are the default language — then lets a jangly Strokes guitar loop underneath. An argument made with production, not lyrics. On slower, B-side-y songs the treatment can feel excessive, sure. On this one, the funk groove and the plastic voice actually get along. The fuzz hits for a second, then it clears out and the song rolls at a pace you could dance to. Consequence’s phrase — dance-friendly groove — is the right one.
Three things to listen for
- The first ten seconds’ bait-and-switch. The fuzz bass promises a banger. The song walks it back into a groove. The gap between what’s promised and what plays is the whole point.
- Auto-Tune vs. jangle. A vocal wearing the uniform of 2020s pop, sitting on top of a guitar tone you could trace straight back to 2001.
- The name-drop as a form. Listing real people is itself the critique — turning the abstract word “influence” into specific proper nouns.
Where this song sits in the arc
The Strokes basically wrote the template for early-2000s NYC rock with ‘Is This It’ in 2001. A rough middle stretch, then 2020’s ‘The New Abnormal’ with Rubin, which took Best Rock Album at the Grammys. Then six quiet years, during which the pop chart got taken over by the very things that borrow from that lineage — ‘Blinding Lights’-style 80s synthwave revival, ‘As It Was’-style breezy indie-pop.
Songfacts described the song as Casablancas consciously chewing over originality, artistic legacy, and his frustration with the industry recycling ideas he feels his band opened up a generation earlier. That’s the right framing. What’s here isn’t a simple “we did it first” flex. It’s closer to “doing it first didn’t actually save us” — a much wetter, sadder feeling.
There’s also a Julian-as-solo-artist streak all over this. His other project, The Voidz, has been playing with Auto-Tune and distorted electronics for years. The Strokes proper have historically been dry, bare-bones, no-tricks in the mix. Bringing that treatment into the main band was going to divide people. Without the crossover, I think the album goes flat. And then the sheer nerve of naming names. The Strokes have spent 25 years being the band that doesn’t post much, doesn’t comment much, keeps festival banter short. And then, three songs into the new album, they read out a list of same-era and younger pop stars. Over a 25-year run, that’s genuinely out of character. It reads less like an outburst and more like something released. Okay, we don’t have to be quiet about this anymore.
First-listen note: I put on side A on the train. ‘Psycho Shit’ opens heavy, ‘Dine N’Dash’ bounces around like something falling apart, and then this third track hits and my shoulders dropped. Felt like the band finally exhaled. “Okay, here’s the usual us.” And in that exhale, the sharpest arrow on the record is sitting there waiting. Nice bit of sequencing.
The album flow, and how it’s landing in Japan
Isolated, this song is good. In sequence, on side A, it’s better. Per the official shop’s listing, side A runs ‘Psycho Shit,’ ‘Dine N’Dash,’ ‘Lonely in the Future,’ ‘Falling out of Love.’ Two rowdy openers, then this one, and you can see the record’s spine — attack, dissolve, dance, turn inward. Less a morning-commute song, more a lights-down, back-home-at-night song. Not one that makes you jump around. One where you rock a little in place and quietly enjoy the fact that he actually said the names.
The two singles, ‘Going Shopping’ and ‘Falling out of Love,’ are the front door — obviously catchy. Brooklyn Vegan reported the day after the announcement that ‘Going Shopping’ had dropped with the tracklist and cover art, with the album due June 26 on Cult Records. If those two are the front door, ‘Lonely in the Future’ is what you notice about the shape of the house once you’re inside. In Japan, it’s crept in through Western-rock airplay charts like TOKIO HOT 100. For a certain Japanese rock listener, The Strokes have been the cool older-brother figure since their 2001 visits, and the reaction to this slightly worn-out older brother reads more like affection than critique.
Where to go next
Two follow-ups. Still on the album: ‘Dine N’Dash.’ SNACK described it as maybe the most unhinged song in the band’s catalog — a synth intro, post-punk guitar and hi-hat, and a strange spoken-word passage dropped in the middle. Best backdrop for hearing what ‘Lonely in the Future’ is reacting against. Then go one back: 2020’s ‘The New Abnormal,’ the other Rubin album. You can hear the through-line and the shift at the same time. After that, walk back to 2001’s ‘Is This It’ and follow the full 25-year arc with your ears.
An open question I’m leaving unanswered
Last thing. Leaving the split unresolved on purpose. AllMusic user reviews include listeners who feel Casablancas’s actual voice is great, and are frustrated the album doesn’t really let them hear it clean. Others hear the Auto-Tune as an ironic device — the whole point of the joke. Neither read is wrong. The Strokes have never been in the business of “just singing straight,” and today’s plastic vocal is on the same line as everything they’ve done for 25 years. Which side are you on? How are the pop stars named in the song actually taking it? How does this song read in five years, once we’ve all sat with it? Better to let every fan hold a slightly different version of the question.
The Strokes didn’t stay a 2000s artifact. In 2026 they wrote, in their own words, that the future is lonely. Sounding a little tired doing it. And still — at a tempo you could dance to.
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