Bloc Party @ Olympia, London
- Apr 16, 2009
The boys from the Bloc have gone and got a bit big. This place looks like you could hold a giant British Union of Fascists rally here (anyone listening in history class?) let alone the homecoming gig for an indie band.
By the time Kele and company come onstage, the crowd feels full and ready for the group to confirm themselves as a proper, you know, whisper it, stadium band. Thankfully, it never looks a possibility.
This isn't through lack of songs, ability or affection. By the time they get round to playing Banquet thousands are loudly proclaiming that they too are "on fire" and Positive Tension's pay off of "so fucking useless" is gleefully dispatched. Song For Clay proves a highlight, both singalong and hymnal epic.
In addition, Kele sings with control and utter confidence, commanding without ever employing rock star clichés to entertain. On drums, Matt Tong is as innovative as ever, rousingly mathematical in his work on a pounding rendition of The Prayer.
There is a refusal to conform in their attitude though, from playing in this cavernous auditorium off the beaten gig track, to refusing to drop the less crowd-pleasing moments from their set, persevering with electro-driven songs from latest album Intimacy that require more precision than can be mustered in the live arena.
It is beguiling, but a balance needs to be struck. Kele breaking the old mould by striding about stage without his guitar as the thrillingly nonsensical reverb of Mercury rings out? Fine. Bassist Gordon Moakes becoming a second drummer for the average repetition of Sunday? Not so fine. The rhythm of the set is always in danger of being lost in disjointedness in favour of pursuing new thrills and directions.
However, a pair of calmer moments penetrates more than the frenetic fervour of One Month Off and its ilk. This Modern Love is reliably soothing, while Ion Square translates into a wholesome behemoth in the flesh. This leaves the space for the novelty of Ares and sonic wizardry of Flux to finish things off satisfyingly. It could have been better, but was fittingly unfiltered and keeps Bloc Party in the upper echelons of UK music, without banishing them to the stadium graveyard.
By the time Kele and company come onstage, the crowd feels full and ready for the group to confirm themselves as a proper, you know, whisper it, stadium band. Thankfully, it never looks a possibility.
This isn't through lack of songs, ability or affection. By the time they get round to playing Banquet thousands are loudly proclaiming that they too are "on fire" and Positive Tension's pay off of "so fucking useless" is gleefully dispatched. Song For Clay proves a highlight, both singalong and hymnal epic.
In addition, Kele sings with control and utter confidence, commanding without ever employing rock star clichés to entertain. On drums, Matt Tong is as innovative as ever, rousingly mathematical in his work on a pounding rendition of The Prayer.
There is a refusal to conform in their attitude though, from playing in this cavernous auditorium off the beaten gig track, to refusing to drop the less crowd-pleasing moments from their set, persevering with electro-driven songs from latest album Intimacy that require more precision than can be mustered in the live arena.
It is beguiling, but a balance needs to be struck. Kele breaking the old mould by striding about stage without his guitar as the thrillingly nonsensical reverb of Mercury rings out? Fine. Bassist Gordon Moakes becoming a second drummer for the average repetition of Sunday? Not so fine. The rhythm of the set is always in danger of being lost in disjointedness in favour of pursuing new thrills and directions.
However, a pair of calmer moments penetrates more than the frenetic fervour of One Month Off and its ilk. This Modern Love is reliably soothing, while Ion Square translates into a wholesome behemoth in the flesh. This leaves the space for the novelty of Ares and sonic wizardry of Flux to finish things off satisfyingly. It could have been better, but was fittingly unfiltered and keeps Bloc Party in the upper echelons of UK music, without banishing them to the stadium graveyard.
