Bloc Party
Wolverhampton Civic Hall
For me, Bloc Party’s first album could not have been more appositely titled. 'Silent Alarm' in fact, would seem to me to be an excellent way of describing the band itself, a band so brilliant, restless and creative and yet one not universally known. Like a silent alarm, their talent screams out, but mutely, like something from the Edvard Munch painting, and not many people take any notice. In a way though, it’s actually a good thing, as I wouldn’t want any dirty Fall Out Boy fans near them (the idea sends an icy spider tripping down my spine; eurgh)…
As it happens, Bloc Party have never made any bones about being a little bit erudite, a bit cerebral, a little elevated from the rest of the fairly bone-headed indie-rock corpus, where to mention postmodernism or use a poem as lyrics (EE Cummings on Ion Square) would most likely induce mirth and possibly a kicking. For instance, their website used to have quotes from personages as august as the 20th Century philosophy doyen Bertrand Russell; to be fair, if you gave the Kaiser Chiefs a book by Bertrand Russell they would probably try and eat it.
So, you might deduce, along with their tinkling, post-punk sensibilities and namby-pamby intellectualism, the power and lyrical intensity of their albums might not translate across to a live crowd. In fact, this was exactly what I thought, and I had in some ways prepared myself to be disappointed by a band I thoroughly adore.
Luckily for me, and everyone else present, I was completely wrong, as the band turned in a packed set full of verve, style and intensity, the varied auditory flavours of their different albums merging to form one coherent, thumping orgy of noise. The stage was resplendent, bathed with moody backlighting that was pitched perfectly to the songs, adding to an atmosphere in the intimate venue that stirred the crowd into evermore frenzied states of excitement.
Opening with new single 'One Month Off', the set careered from the strained shouts of 'She’s Hearing Voices', to the charging chords of 'Banquet', to the tribal, ominous rumble of 'The Prayer', only pit-stopping to occasionally downshift into more melodic mood with songs like 'Biko'. The personal highlight for me was 'This Modern Love', whose plaintive, supplicating intro broke down into a driving, spiralling climax that seemed to reach to the ceiling.
What stood out too is just how tight and proficient the group are, with nary a note out of place the entire night. Okereke’s gulping, yelping delivery is as clear and resonating as it is on the record, and Matt Tong, for me, has to be the best drummer since Reni used to sit behind the kit for the Stone Roses. He is metronomic and versatile, marrying technical proficiency with a real feel for the thump and groove the drums can provide.
Speaking of Okereke, he too is an enigmatic stage presence, at one point shy and retiring, and the next cheerleading the masses; during 'Mercury', he threw himself headlong into the maelstrom of the front row, bouncing and jumping around with the best of them. In a music world of bland, boring, one-dimensional figures his intelligence, blunt honesty and eschewal of the type of faux celebrity so enjoyed by bands with not even 5% of their talent is both refreshing and attractive.
In fact, the only dig I can have at the night is the myopic security who tried to remove me; in fact, the exchange went something like this:
Bouncer: Can you come with me?
Me (quizzically): Er, yeah…
(I trail after him out to the foyer, where I’m surrounded by about ten staff)
Bouncer: Have you been thrown out?
Me (looking myself up and down): Does it look like it?
Manager: That’s not him…
Bouncer: Oh…
Luckily, I only missed half a song, and my only other gripe is a purely selfish one, in that they didn’t play the sublime, music-as-if-from-the-hand-of-God-himself, swirling, ethereal slice of heaven that is 'So Here We Are'. The spiky 'Helicopter' saw the band off at the end of the encore, as my photographer and I then went on to stage a pastiche of the train scene from “A Hard Day’s Night”, running down Wolverhampton high street and across half of Birmingham in search of trains that, in this case, would pull off just as we arrived panting on the platform.
To sum up then, the Gallagher brothers (who I also adore mind you) once referred sneeringly to Bloc Party as “…a band off of University Challenge”. Whilst it is true that the quartet favour pabulum over sputum and style over bile, this does not stop Bloc Party from being a band that can put on a live show as stirring, exciting and heart-thuddingly kinetic as anything other, straight-up rock bands can offer. Okereke also intimated cheekily that they would be on tour again very soon, a hint towards a possible new album. Trust me, when this next tour comes up, go and see them - I can almost guarantee you will not be disappointed.
Words: Paul Madill
Images: Andy Smith
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