Of the big UK indie bands of the 00s wave, Bloc Party were always the most austerely art-rockish. Where Arctic Monkeys, Klaxons, Franz Ferdinand all to some degree or other had a dose of the vaudevillian and a bit of party “woohoo!”, BP adhered way more to the seriousness, alienation and introspection of their post-punk inspirations.
This certainly didn’t do them any harm in the first instance – they were, frankly, huge – but maybe stopped them having quite so much crossover appeal, and you’re less likely to hear them now on Noughties nostalgia shows on mainstream radio and suchlike.
It did, however, set their frontman Kele Okereke up to take the creative road less travelled, and his output over the years since BP’s big success has never been less than interesting. As well as continuing to make indie rock, he has integrated South African dance music styles (well before that country’s gqom and amapiano became international currency), dubstep, electropop and more experimental electronics into his own singer-songwriter releases, and released straight ahead instrumental dance music on notoriously hedonistic international party label Crosstown Rebels to boot.
And this has obviously kept him creatively fresh. This is his eighth solo album, and third in a series where every sound other than vocals is created by processing his guitar – and something about that constraint has given it a sonic consistency which makes it one of his overall most satisfying LPs to date. All of his diverse influences are here, from The Cure and Magazine to highlife to techno, but they’re more folded into a coherent whole than ever, and while there’s still angst and edge, he feels like he’s comfortable in this musical house he’s built, his voice as conversational as it is proclamatory. The structure is great, too, as strong in the last section which includes the eerie, Vini Reilly-ish instrumental “The Legend of Archie and Lilibet” and the tentative bliss of “Holy Work” as it is from the top. As the 20th anniversary of BP’s debut album approaches, it’s wonderful to hear Okereke both maturing and as serious and creatively hungry as he’s ever been.
Listen to "Money Trouble (Live)":
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