It's My Party

Yes, I was that guy. I was the guy who happened to be reading Pitchfork when the news broke that Bloc Party, the latest darlings of the hype-oriented UK music press, would be playing two shows at Webster Hall in June. I was also the guy who, confident that the show would sell out immediately and that there would subsequently be a huge demand for tickets, bought a few more tickets than he needed. I won't speak specifically about what I did with those tickets, but let's just say that the week I received the tickets in the mail, I made exactly zero stops at the ATM. Can you really blame me? After spending four years as an English major at Vassar and another year roaming the bowels of the NYC publishing industry, scalping indie rock tickets is the one entrepreneurial skill I have left.

It's sort of strange to show up at a concert venue, as I did on Tuesday night, knowing that the band you're about to see is the absolute hottest act on the planet. You start to think about all of your expectations, and you begin to wonder whether or not the band you're about to see -- or any band, for that matter -- could ever live up to them. You worry that the show might even soil your view of the band's best album or song. Then you say to yourself, "Dude, it's just a fucking rock show. Get a hold of yourself."

Regardless, I've never seen an indie crowd packed in so tightly before. It was somewhere between 95 and 150 degrees inside Webster Hall that night; the sides of my jeans began to feel damp because I kept wiping the sweat from my brow onto them. Bloc Party came on around 10:30, opening with the winding, anthemic "Like Eating Glass." A few songs later came "Banquet," which would've been my choice for Song of the Year (narrowly edging "Heartbeat," by Annie) had it not been released on an EP back in 2003 or 2004.

It was around this point that I began to evaluate the show. Bloc Party sounded very, very good, though not great, and played with a pretty infectious energy. Also, it became clear to me and my buddy Mike that drummer Matt Tong is a borderline virtuoso. It's not a stretch to say that there would be no Bloc Party without Matt Tong, who is probably the best drummer to hit rock in years. If there were some big intergalatic drumming showdown on Mars and I could only send one person to compete against eight-armed percussionists from the far reaches of the universe, I'd send Matt Tong. And I'd come home with the trophy.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder, "Why aren't people getting down like they do at a Franz show?" Now, there was a goodly amount of pronounced head-nodding and toe-tapping, but still, this is fucking Bloc Party we're talking about. I even think that vocalist/guitarist Kele Okereke picked up on this a little bit, going so far as to exhort the crowd to start dancing. There was a little more head-nodding and toe-tapping, and a few people made half-hearted attempts at pogoing, but still, no widespread ass-shaking. Why?

I came to the conclusion that as good and fun as Bloc Party is live, they'll never elicit the same reaction as fellow UK-rockers Franz Ferdinand. "Bloc Party is like the Blur to Franz Ferdinand's Oasis," I told Mike after the show. "Blur had more complex musical arrangements and pretty thoughtful lyrics, but people liked Oasis more because they were easier to sing along to." Now, I really do believe the Bloc Party's songs feature a higher level of songwriting and instrumenation than Franz's -- BP's songs are always twisting and turning, stopping and starting, while Franz's ("Take Me Out" aside) are fairly straightforward dancerock -- but it's no coincidence that by this time last year Franz had crossed over into the mainstream, while Bloc Party still remains an indie band. Bloc Party's songs demand more of your attention; just when you think it's time to break it down, the song will stop on a dime and head in another direction. The end result is always skillful and satisfying, but you're left with the musical equivalent of blue balls. Don't get me wrong -- if Bloc Party releases another 7-10 albums like their incredible debut record, they could become one of the greatest bands of ALL time, but if they choose not to drop the artiness that makes them such a great, unique band, Kele Okereke is going to have to keep imploring the crowd to get busy on the dancefloor. Man, fuck a Faustian bargain.