Music review: Bloc Party, Kelvingrove Bandstand, Glasgow

I never understood the point of Bloc Party until witnessing this fairly entertaining outdoor performance. I’d hitherto dismissed them as the ultimate Steve Lamacq-endorsed guitar band: hard-working, solid, unexceptional. On record, their post-punk revival, student disco blah does nothing for me. However, after seeing them give their all in front of a wildly enthusiastic crowd, suddenly they made sense.
Bloc Party PIC: Rachel Murray/Getty ImagesBloc Party PIC: Rachel Murray/Getty Images
Bloc Party PIC: Rachel Murray/Getty Images

Bloc Party, Kelvingrove Bandstand, Glasgow ***

Bloc Party are an excellent live band. That’s mostly down to singer-guitarist Kele Okereke, an inveterate people-pleaser who continually gets the (bloc) party started. He seems like a nice young man, too, his affable between-song pronouncements amusingly at odds with the intensity of his declamatory performance style.

In terms of stagecraft, Okereke does all the work. The only other focal point was limber-limbed, top-knotted drummer Louise Bartle, who battered her classic bijou kit with anvil precision and flair.

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Most of their set consisted of 2005 debut album Silent Alarm played in its entirety, albeit with the track listing reversed. Hence why, on a dour, damp, overcast evening in Kelvingrove Park they opened with album-closer Compliments, a dour, damp, overcast dirge. Fortunately, after this inauspicious start, the energy levels spiked with the frantic Luno and never let up.

Highlights included the Lydon-esque Price of Gasoline and the singalong-inducing hits Pioneers and Banquet.

The momentum did dip slightly when, due to technical problems, the band had to leave the stage for a few minutes towards the end of their set. Then the heavens opened. Nevertheless, pros that they are, they came back with a fiery encore climaxing with the heavy-riffing art-funk of Ratchet.

Bloc Party’s connection with their fans lends this grey, characterless music some sort of human meaning. I get it now. Skilfully elevated mediocrity. Paul Whitelaw

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