Wale is sitting quietly at a table in ESPN Zone, a grotesque Times Square tourist-trap restaurant. Dressed in black jeans and a T-shirt, with his trademark fitted Washington Nationals cap, he nods his head nervously. Servers gawk at the rapper, nearly tipping over plates of soggy Buffalo wings as they pass by, but dejection covers his face. "Look at this, it's on the blogs already," he says.

The term "supergroup" tends to get thrown around a lot, but often the tag just doesn't sit right. Consider Damn Yankees. Or Zwan. Or more recently, Chickenfoot. While these groups technically fit the definition -- a band whose members are already famous from having performed individually or in other groups -- does anyone truly believe that they're super?

There's a scene in Alex Cox's 1986 film Sid & Nancy that foreshadows the end for the star-crossed punk lovers: One of their cohorts shows up in a trilby hat, shiny tonic suit, and skinny tie, having ditched his safety pins and leather. "I don't wanna be a punk anymore," he explains. "I wanna be a rude boy, like my dad."

"This is what I'm talking about!"

Photos by Nick Haymes

Chefs, vintners, and Impressionists may consider success in France the only kind worth having. Rock bands, not so much. But even as teenagers jamming in the basement of singer Thomas Mars' house, Phoenix set their sights on les États-Unis.