LIVE REVIEW: Bloc Party, Brighton Concorde 2 (Date: 23.08.07)

The heat is unbelievable in here. On arriving, some two hours ago, the initially spacious bar in the Concorde welcomed some 250 fan club members with a blast of cool air, but that didn’t last long. The sun was low but still punished the early birds on the outside; not that you’d know from the heavy black curtains separating the casual drinkers from the late afternoon.

And now that dry heat has been replaced by the wet heat of bodies stood side by side, well within each other’s personal space; they’re all on tiptoes, booming heartfelt cheers in the direction of an empty stage. It doesn’t remain deserted for long, though, and the cheers turn to roars as the first, second, third and fourth pair of denim-clad legs stroll casually out.

Tonight might have been advertised and sold as a fans-only event, but it’s a Carling Weekend warm-up too. This doesn’t put off the punters thinking that this is all just for them, and why should it? Kele, Russell, Gordy and Matt all individually interact with the crowd to give the feel of a private performance. The songs are the focus, though, and when they’re played sound fresher than ever.

When Silent Alarm is played alongside A Weekend In The City in an environment that commands cohesion and harmony, the vast differences in the LPs are smoothed out and a guitar disco follows. ‘Banquet’, ‘Helicopters’ and ‘Price of Gasoline’ deliver a high-tempo, enthralling, impossibly passionate pounding that throws fists uncontrollably toward the wet ceiling. The enjoyment is acknowledged in the ridiculous smile that breaks out across Kele’s face every time there’s a lyrical break. Newer songs: ‘The Prayer’, ‘Waiting For The 7.18’ and ‘I Still Remember’: each deals a calmer dance, but a dance still. The build-ups are fantastically frustrating. The boys on stage know they are holding you in delayed ecstasy, and they love it.

Tonight is about embracing every single Bloc Party track, screaming the lyrics of every one of them and dancing your feet off without the threat of having an unknown tune thrown into the mix. And it’s a memorable occasion.

Words: Dean Samways

Photo: Dean Samways