Interpol
Turn On The Bright Lights
On Sale Now
For $11.98

The mammoth warehouse turned live band venue, known as The Electric Factory in Philadelphia was teeming with indie folk, semi-goths, collegians, and others that have endured and absorbed the hype of bleak rockers Interpol. On this trip through town, the band was accompanied by The Occasion and Elefant. While I missed The Occasion, Elefant proved to be more energized than Interpol, mixing Psychedelic Furs/Adorable-enriched pop ballads with grittier, more cacophonous tunes. Their rather charismatic frontman and lyricist, Diego Garcia, roamed the stage looking to engage audience members, only to step back and spontaneously halt in bifurcate poses.

During the lead-in to one Elefant song, he crouched at the front of the stage and asked the crowd, the staff, and anyone who would listen, why a metal barricade separated the crowd from the stage. He repeated his plea for information as the band waded into the song – “Why is this here? Can someone tell me why this is here? Have you been being bad? I don’t understand. Will someone talk to me? Have you been jumping on stage? Is this here to keep you separated from us, from jumping on stage? Well, I dear you to!” Elefant’s capacity to soften the volatility of their coarse anthems with the ponderous tenuity of their ballads gives the band a good deal of dimension. Their fancy for crowd interaction makes them interesting to watch.

The equipment transfer between bands felt like it was far longer than Elefant’s set, leaving many in the balcony area to crowd the bar area. I counted some six or seven (if not more) techies on stage moving and setting up instruments and sound equipment, while some people in the crowd grew a bit anxious waiting for Interpol to show on a rainy Tuesday night. In the thick of this past year’s winter season, I caught Interpol on the small club circuit when they entertained a packed house at the Trocodero. That show, in February and also on a Tuesday night, was the antidote for my Interpol curiosities. The recurrent comparisons to Joy Division had stimulated my euro-industrial nerve enough to buy the album on its release date and a ticket for the show from goliath, Ticketmaster, which I try to avoid at all extra costs. This second show, while at a much larger venue, was to be less of a post-punk elixir and more of an analysis of hype.

As the album submerges listeners into the unseen black waves of encircling guitar riffs and hallowed vocals, so did the show as the band faded into Untitled. I half expected them to follow up Untitled with Obstacle 1 as I’ve grown accustomed to hearing it, but they altered that false expectation of mine with Say Hello to the Angels. The audience, once animated and agog, appeared dazed by the celestial, daydream-induced nature of the four New Yorkers’ music. It’s the effects of Interpol’s chemistry. A swank light show also shrouded the band behind oscillating spotlights and club fog for much of the night, leaving only Interpolian silhouettes on stage. The aural and visual details of the show only reinforce the capsule nature of the band, noticeable in the shushing of a crowd member by someone in the band just prior to a song. There seems to be a vibe separation between band and audience, with the band propagating their message from behind a curtain of music and light.

Since the band has been touring extensively on the success of Turn On The Bright Lights, I expected little in the way of new material. That proved to be true as they ventured outside of their TOTBT catalogue to do three new songs, none of which I’ve heard before but appear to follow the same concrete and tin formula. Stella Was A Diver And She Was Always Down enchanted a good portion of the audience around me as many sounded off with their own vocals to match the drone of Paul Banks. The reverberant bass lines of Carlos Dengler and the precision of Sam Fogarino’s drums culminated in the hypnotic frenzy of Daniel Kessler’s luminous guitar leads.

As pristine as it sounds on the album, NYC ushered in the same untouched yet tainted feel of some sort of echoing tail of a miserable relationship. Stirring renditions of Leif Erikson, Obstacle 1, and Roland roused the venue for the only remaining and much anticipated hit, PDA. Their latest edition of the song includes an extended pause between the chorus and second verses, giving the audience a few moments to offer a blissful salute. PDA executed the remainder of the setlist and put the period on the end of the night. Hex broken, the crowd turned and headed for the Tuesday night downpour, wet and transfixed but satisfied that the band can reproduce the stygian details of their much hyped debut album.

The setlist from the show:
Untitled
Say Hello to the Angels
Stella was a diver and she was always down
a new song (not sure of title)
Hands Away
NYC
Obstacle 1
Narc
Leif Erikson
Roland Specialist
PDA

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