Interpol at Sheppards Bush Empire, 23/03/2011

It’s not often, if ever, the case, but somehow this time around Interpol have managed to slip into the busy London gig milieu without many people seeming to notice and certainly without the general barking of hype from various different publications such a band would normally warrant. The band did a small tour of the UK earlier in the year, but this London date was added as a seemingly one off affair, aired live on XFM. This only makes tonight’s gig more special- the air of quiet exclusivity matched by the stature of a band that can simply walk in, barely announced, through the back door and still create such a buzz.

We’ll get this out of the way now; Right from the opening chords of ‘Success’ to the final and epic wig out of ‘Not Even Jail’, the gig is unbelievable. Interpol have perpetually seemed ‘The Elder Statesmen of Indie Rock’, but now that they have actually reached an age (sort of) where they may legitimately be tagged such a thing, the ‘Elder…’ label sits on them better than their impeccably fitted suits. This probably isn’t anything actually to do with age, but has more to do with the way they carry themselves. The band’s singer and undoubted leader, Paul Banks, is more assured than ever. Even when singing in his trademark baritone about being on the verge of existential meltdown, he is captivating and controls the crowd with ease.

The band play a perfect set; knowing that the fans will certainly allow for new (and, let’s face it, not quite as good) songs, but not at the expense of their true old favourites, Interpol balance new and old material perfectly. ‘NYC’ is as huge and shimmeringly out-of-body as it ever was, ‘Evil’ is typically amazing (not least for guitarist Daniel Kessler’s floppy limbed dance) and ‘Obstacle 1’ propels itself into more of a jittery, emotive slab of post-punk than the recorded version ever was. On the other hand, ‘Barricade’ and ‘Memory Serves’ are fantastic, while ‘Lights’ is genuinely brilliant in a shit yourself this is really haunting kind of way.

‘Rest My Chemistry’ is probably the set’s highlight. The song springs to life out of the spooky piano, developing outward from this into a monolithic, hypnotic beast of a song which sways the crowd around sinisterly. By now, Interpol are the masters of their live show. Often standing stock still, silhouetted powerfully by blinding lights, the participation and energy of the gig transfers from what songs they play and how they play them. Just the sheer epicness (for want of a better word) is enough to captivate the crowd throughout and even warrant a couple of mosh pits tonight.

‘Not Even Jail’ provides the curtains for the gig; the constant stomping beat, the characteristically poignant guitars and Banks’ soaring voice all provide the perfect climax. The song ascends and descends, climaxes and collapses into fits of atmospheric reverb, then builds itself up again. And, finally, with a prolonged drone of echoed feedback, the song, and the gig, finishes and the lights go up. A magnificent and apt end. The crowd filters out looking genuinely astonished and uplifted.  When it comes to post-punk of that shadowy but undeniably big ilk, Interpol are still the best.