There’s always been an undercurrent of malevolence underneath
the desperate art-punk cries of indie stalwarts Bloc Party. They walked a fine
line, with the darkly psychosexual worlds of Bowie and Suede on one side and
the post-punk dancefloor-spite of Franz Ferdinand, never particularly straying
from the template initially. Debut
effort Silent Alarm was acclaimed,
with strong commercial success behind it too. The band never really strayed too
far from its comfort zone, bar some experimentation here and there. They
remained a resolutely mid-noughties example of classic indie-punk, laced with a
poison that struck out wildly.
Which makes fifth album and comeback record Hymns an intriguing proposition, a
collection of alternative-dance songs that instead of snarling, cleave to a
quasi-religious palate of forgiveness. It comes in the wake of the band’s
lineup overhaul – only Kele Okereke and Russell Lissack remain, resulting in a
fresh rhythm section of drummer Louise Bartle and bassist Justin Harris – and serves
to reinforce that Bloc Party Mk.2 are a different beast from their
predecessors.
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| Eoin Loveless, of Drenge, live in 2016. Courtesy of Tim Gray. |
Their stop in Leeds, in the headline slot of the NME Awards
Tour, is the first chance for many fans to hear new cuts, with the album barely
a week released, to a disappointing commercial reception. They have to wait
through three other acts first, of varying quality. Rising grime artist Bugzy
Malone delivers some wry asides and solid rhymes in his lyrics – but his entire
catalogue appears to rest upon two different backing tracks. Rat Boy, real name
Jordan Cardy, delivers the next Cheeky Chappie-based indie-punk act filled with
social commentary, though he adds an intriguing electronica element at points
to an otherwise rough-by-numbers performance.
Drenge, a band who were once rather drunk on stage in
support of Peace in this city, have tightened up considerably since the last
time. Receiving initial large exposure in an MP’s resignation letter, the
Loveless brothers have added a bass to their primal squall of guitars and
drums, resulting in a considerably meatier melodic quality to their sound.
Recent cuts The Woods and Never Awake do themselves justice whilst
a closing one-two of Fuckabout and Let’s Pretend develops into a
feedback-drenched progressive grunge masterclass, executed with professional
precision.
Bloc Party’s performance, by contrast, is jubilant and
well-executed, but falls prey on occasion to a muted solemnity. They elect to
open with the synth-gospel of new album track Only He Can Heal Me, Okereke half-whispering his vocals into the
swirl around him. It’s a tender pleading line that works well, but casts a
continuing shadow over the rest of their seventy-minute set. Later tracks Different Drugs and Into the Earth are cut from similar cloth and an abundance of
tracks from Hymns in general seems
top-heavy in a setlist that eschews several of the band’s largest hits (the
absence of Positive Tension and Flux is noticeable in a lull of back-to-back
new songs).
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| Kele Okereke of Bloc Party, live in 2016. Courtesy of Getty Images. |
But not all of their finest cuts are absent and Bloc Party
clearly relish being back, bouncing through Mercury,
Song for Clay (Disappear Here) and Banquet in the opening stretch alone with
a childish sense of glee at his songs of punkish energy and blackly-tinted
spirit. The band is well rehearsed too, near note-perfect in their faithful
renditions of a gorgeous Waiting for the
7.18, weaving together with a surprising elegance, given a previous
penchant for blunt delivery. Their sound mix unfortunately meanders all over
the place, with Octopus rendered
incomprehensible in the wings, but a stellar light-show and a triumphant
closing number in Hymns lead single The Love Within signs them off in style.
They return with another new one – the after-hours slow
ballad of Fortress, a song that
blends icy synths with ham-fisted lyricisms. But their final power trio – the angry
party-starter Helicopter, the
beautifully aching This Modern Love
and the punk-rave of Ratchet –
trigger delirious nostalgia-based dancing and singing to Okereke’s delight.
Perhaps Bloc Party may no longer find themselves the commercial behemoth they
were a decade ago – but there’s definitely still a nostalgic warmth to them in
their return that seems genuine enough to hope that Mk.2 is here to stay.
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