bloc party

This date with dance-rock is awash with gig virgins more at home with a dissertation and bottle of cough mixture than a raved-up moshpit. Insecure youths spill about, one of which enquires why I’m scribbling notes. The temptation to play up to his paranoia is great. I want to say I’m observing the effects of cheap sub-standard drugs on first time users. I don’t. They wouldn’t get it anyway. Earnest suckers these Bloc Party fans. Kele goes through the motions. Three songs in and the band - and the audience - still hasn’t really warmed up. A waifish girl shouts “do Hunting For Witches…The Prayer – or any one that we know….” Out of the corner of my eye I see Sally being escorted away through a side exit along with the other snappers. Bitch. Probably off to sample more backstage delights. I’m stuck with Kele trying to stoke up the crowd. “I’m gonna have to warm you up! Okay. Left hand in the air! Right hand in the air! Jogging on the spot! Now…make a loud noise!!” His football coach meets nursery teacher approach works. A roar goes up for ‘Hunting For Witches’ and Bloc Party switch from slow sensitive to fast and furious with familiar ease. Several formulaic songs later and my concentration falters. I people-watch once more. This gig is definitely winter training for next year’s festival newbies. A geological age seems to pass before ‘Helicopter’ gets the mobiles flashing and the ravers…er, raving again. “ are you hoping for a miracle…” Yeah…where is Sally?! I check my mobile. Seems she’s been unceremoniously stripped of her photo pass and dumped outside in the cold night air. So much corporate hostility! The MAN is here tonight alright…