Franz Ferdinand
There was very little messing about, charging through song after song, so that when the band departed after an hour, having knocked seven bells out of the drumkit, it felt like only half that time had passed.
Formed in 2002, this Glaswegian quintet - back then there were four of them - seems to deftly avoid the whiff of heritage, perhaps because they seem to take longer with each new album. Certainly, by the time that The Human Fear emerged last year it was eagerly anticipated. The band has changed, of course. With Audrey Tait joining relatively recently, only flamboyant frontman Alex Kapranos and stoic Bob Hardy on bass remain from that noughties incarnation. Two ends of the performing spectrum, the gap in between is now completed by Julian Corrie on keyboard and Dino Bardot on guitar, but you wouldn't know these are the new boys, given the well-oiled machine presented on stage.
Before that machine was switched on, the evening kicked off with Bristol six-piece Home Counties, who presented an altogether looser affair. Dual vocalists Will Harrison and Lois Kelly lead the group, each standing behind a mystery box of tricks, occasionally shaking the odd shaky thing for good measure. Meanwhile, the heavy lifting was done by Conor Kearney, Dan Hearn, Barn Peiser Pepin, and Bill Griffin, producing an infectious backing for their singing. Depending how far back you want to go, there were evident shades of the B52s or Talking Heads evident, notwithstanding that none of them look old enough to have been around when such bands were at their height. Lois Kelly has a particularly fine singing voice - had this been BGT Simon Cowell would have muttered solo career in her ear - but Harrison adds personality and character to the mix. Humdrum was anything but, and even better was Bethnal Green. A song about pubs - I think that's what he said - that improbably featured flat roofs was not their best, but normal service was quickly resumed when they finished on the upbeat, Uptight.
The stage dressing for Franz Ferdinand was a quirky, off centre proscenium arch and various risers for the band to jump up and leap off of. Unnecessary, of course, but no more than the smoke and lights if it's the tunes you've come for. What it did do is give a sense of theatre in the LCR, a space that - let's face it - has never quite escaped its brutalist 60s origins. Kapranos appeared to be sporting a silken, monikered one piece, only adding to the showmanship he clearly enjoys. He's a proper master of ceremonies, only occasionally slipping into cocksure Brett Anderson territory. The rest of the band seem content to let him do his thing, with only Dino Bardot vying for attention, playing his guitar with the swagger of the late, great Gypie Mayo.
From the opening riff of The Dark of the Matinee, and then on to Walk Away, we knew we were in safe hands, as a central moshpit - surely too young to have heard these songs first time around - went absolutely bonkers. Here's the thing, though. Night and Day, from The Human Fear, more than held its own. Julian Corrie's keys were to the fore in a song written at a time when they were around, and while Audacious is more obviously a throwback to their quartet days, Build It Up sits somewhere between the two. Not that we were short-changed when it came to classics. Do You Want To, Michael and Take Me Out kept that mosh pit going, while 40' reminded us they could be reflective, even back in the day.
There was very little messing about, charging through song after song, so that when the band departed after an hour, having knocked seven bells out of the drumkit, it felt like only half that time had passed. The extended encore offered an unusual cross section of their back catalogue, even cheekily squeezing in Hooked off of the new record. But then the band have never been content to play with an entirely straight bat, and are all the more engaging for it. Their bizarre-in-theory collaboration with Sparks remains one of my all time cherished Glastonbury moments, so little wonder they like to, rather fittingly for a UEA gig, do different. That said, there was only one way they were ever going to round things off, and that was with a bone-shaking, awe inspiring rendition of This Fire. They may not have burned this city, but they definitely overwhelmed Norwich so sweetly.
