Bloc Party...

venue:   Digital Brighton review date:   Sunday, 13 June 2004 photos & words by:   Bec Chalkley [ intro | page 1 ]

review

It’s a strange night to be at a gig. On my way the streets are so eerily quiet I half expect a zombie or a triffid to accost me, so reminiscent of such sci-fi tales is it. Unnerving collective roars occasionally emanate from open windows as England and France do battle. The Zap too feels different to its usual club nights, with musical youths lounging against stacks of drum kits and guitar cases in the corridors, and the podium that's normally witness to the patter of tiny clubbers feet is bulging with amps, mic stands and all manner of musical paraphenalia.

Komakino wear their influences
on their sleeves - and
on their jeans they wear artfully
placed gaffer tape criss-crosses.

First support Komakino play some fine spikey, fiery art rock, but they’re a bit subdued. “I know it’s hard, but let’s just forget about the football," says singer Ryan, the first I hear that England got hammered. I mentally make a note to cycle home quickly and not dillydally on the way, especially along West Street.

The irrepressible singer’s mood soon mends enough for him to clamber onto the speakers awhile before leaping back onto the stage to fling himself about some more. Named after a Joy Division song, Komakino wear their influences on their sleeves - and on their jeans they wear artfully placed gaffer tape criss-crosses.

Less concerned with such fashions, you can tell when Kill Kenada come on they’re gonna be thrashy - they’ve got the hair. Concentrating on playing their guitars very hard and very fast, they’re less self-conscious than Komakino, but somehow also less interesting. To me. Tonight. They rock out like the 22-20s, great walls of guitar noise, but unlike 22-20s they're more Nirvana than Led Zep. Everyone loves them. I would’ve loved them a few years ago, but tonight it’s not hitting the spot.

I think it’s because I’m getting restless. At 11.40, just as I’m contemplating a cup of tea at home, Bloc Party appear and frontman Kele Okereke thanks us for ‘waiting up’. All is immediately forgiven as the London four-piece launch into the penultimate gig of their second national tour this year.

‘She Hearing Voices’ is really
the song that brought me here...
Kele’s voice is deep and ominous,
getting more urgent and fraught
as the chorus hits...It’s too good

‘She Hearing Voices’ is really the song that brought me here. It’s their second song tonight and as Matt Tong’s familiar taut drumbeat kicks in and that “HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!" a wave of excitement surges through the crowd. Kele’s voice is deep and ominous, getting more urgent and fraught as the chorus hits: “She’s got a red pill blue pill, red pill blue pill...". It’s too good.

Joy Division are clearly an influence, as are Gang of Four and early Cure, rarely more so than in ‘Banquet’ which is pure Cure from the guitars to Kele’s Robert Smithesque vocals. It’s great, though none of their other songs grab me round the throat in quite the same way as ‘She Hearing Voices’.

But these are early days for Bloc Party. After doing the rounds of the majors and being told to "go away and write more slow songs", indie label Wichita should be a safe new home from which to nurture their blossoming talents. This is a band liable to caress and pummel our ears for many European football tournaments to come.

This is a band liable to
caress and pummel our ears
for many European football
tournaments to come

They introduce their encore with “this is our slow song". Have they succumbed to record company demands? I’m tempted to leave - it’s late, I can’t be arsed with slow numbers tonight - but it’s not slow at all. Hurrah. The rascals. They end with ‘Little Thoughts’ and the band are still grinning, delighted in their task. I find myself glad I stayed. You see, just like the footie the last few minutes were crucial...

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