Editors - Live

Editors
Alexandra Palace, London
Wednesday 5th March 2008

Another band runs the Alexandra Palace gauntlet. Editors, having done rather well of late, take the leap from big indie band to proper, your-mum-has-probably-heard-of-them, arena showstoppers. Well, not quite - but they give it a decent go.

Support bands shouldn’t be allowed at this venue. They should just give everyone a few free drinks, or lower the price and have the gig start later. The venue is just so vast, so open, that anything but the most advanced sound equipment is utterly futile. Sons and Daughters may well be a very exciting young band with a captivating front-woman in Adele Bethel, but they sound flat and tinny against the backdrop of uninterested punters and cloudy vibrations. They look like kids in a school play, completely lost at the sheer size of their audience and task. Sadly, those listening are left grasping the sentiment of millions of parents forced to watch said productions - you stay and watch, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy it.

To succeed at Ally Pally you need an enormous, epic quality in the sound, deep, resounding distinction in the vocals, and giddy devotion in the fans. Luckily, this pretty much describes Editors. After the warm, welcoming paranoia of ‘Camera’, they soon throttle any sceptics by crashing into fire-starting, anthem mode. Songs flash past, working by blending big, effect-laden, soaring riffs - you know, that one U2 have been using for the past two decades - with deft, subtle touches. ‘Munich’ is simply deafening, a menacing carousel of intent, while ‘The End Has A Start’ feeds off a crushing drum line that forces blaring energy into the set.

This vitality doesn’t really disperse into the crowd though. It’s a surprisingly old bunch, with less than instant enthusiasm, and the band lacks the spark to turn the gig from an event to an occasion. Every time any momentum builds, a more considered track seems to lose the interest of those less than obsessively committed. While ‘Push Your Head Towards The Air’ is a comfy, plush little number, it gets somewhat lost amongst the blockbusting blaze of ‘Bullets’ and the relentless, purging surge of ‘All Sparks’.

One constant is the capricious, captivating performance of singer Tom Smith. Frustration seeps from each pained movement as he entangles his voice and arms around ’Spiders’, before a mischievous playfulness highlights an accomplished run through The Cure’s ‘Lullaby.’ Rarely has a band’s sound been so clearly expressed through a singer; his every move details each twisting guitar, every bellow betrays an intense longing for affection but distance. He hides the band’s shortcomings and amplifies their talents , and almost - almost - makes this a triumph.

Then the sound system breaks. Returning for encore, halfway through the euphoric hymn of ‘Racing Rats’, somebody throws beer on the mixing desk and that’s that. They return in vain for another try, before finally completing closer ‘Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors.’ This was a valiant attempt to break into the big time. They will before long, but tonight they fall just short.

Bloc Party & The Cribs Live

Alexandra Palace
Friday 14th December


If a band is trying to gage how far they have progressed, playing Alexandra Palace is the acid test. “Let’s pretend for a moment that this is a sweaty little club instead of a huge exhibition centre,” pleads Kele Okereke. When you are facing a hall more suited for a political conference than a gig, this isn’t an easy task. Bloc Party manage it with a jerky medley of understated style and in-your-face bravado.

The Cribs find the transition less comfortable. Chaotic kings of sticky-floored settings nationwide, in front of a larger audience they sound flat. ‘Our Bovine Public’ is a disastrous opener marred by the venue’s notoriously troublesome acoustics and poor timing. Things improve with ‘Hey Scenesters’, the Jarman brothers mastering the mix between enthusiastic thrashing and maintaining rhythm.

Three albums in, the band have an array of songs to choose from, but pluck mostly from latest record Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever. Despite the catchiness of singles ‘Moving Pictures’ and ‘Men’s Needs’, there is a surprising lack of reaction from an audience still muttering about the injustice of £3.50 pints. ‘Another Number’ is the highlight, raising spirits and arms in an enthralling surge of simplicity. But Ryan’s inability to perform a trademark stagedive due to the gap between him and the audience is ironically representative of the distance between The Cribs’ sound and its suitability for venues like this.

Bloc Party have a few more tricks, a few more hits, and a lot more showmanship. These don’t make a band great, but they make a crowd move. ‘Positive Tension’ is unleashed early, a juddering, uneven triumph; ‘Banquet’ follows sharply, still sounding audaciously fresh.

Singer Kele revels in his shape-shifting role, simultaneously a siren of despair and a symbol of debauchery. He exudes energy during a raucous rendition of ‘She’s Hearing Voices’, he glows with emotion through a tender ‘So Here We Are.’ Matt Tong may look like an IT expert and has an annoying tendency to take his shirt off, but he drums with imagination and tenacity, keeping an ungainly momentum to Bloc Party’s performance.

They generate a thrilling sense of occasion that peaks as the band reappear with latest single ‘Flux.’ Often you wish Russell would stop messing about with effects and just play his guitar; here, the sound soars, lasers blaze above and the track zips by with outrageous rapidity. ‘Sunday’ adds balance and warmth, before a wired race through ‘Helicopter’ and the grand exploration of ‘Pioneers’ complete the set. Bloc Party pace the gig expertly, controlling its tone. Everyone leaves feeling it speeded past, yet was exhaustingly epic. Test passed.