Bloc Party - Intimacy

Coming just over two weeks since the release of the album, you may wonder why it took so long to review this album. Due to the difficulty in actually putting the confusion that this album caused in to words, about 6 reviews have failed to be completed. Ironically, the day we publish this we received two reviews at the same time. These follow, with the first by Scribbler-virgin James Preece and the second by regular writer Mark Gibbs.

In 2004 Bloc Party gatecrashed modern music and with Silent Alarm floored all the guests, before throwing them a towel with A Weekend In The City (2007) to clean themselves up. And then, just while everyone started to throw abuse and pick up the chairs for the final backlash, the band slipped neatly out the backdoor with 2008’s Intimacy.

After listening to this album over and over again, it’s hard to define it as anything else, and even then it’s hard to define it at all (this review, standing at about 2000 words, is similar in size to many university essays). Ares opens everything up with completely perplexing vocals, and lyrics referring to Greek mythology and what I’ll tentatively refer to as ‘the streets’ in equal measure. The drums pound away like artillery, the guitar whines like a ‘siren’ while everything seems to get ‘quite highly charged’. And then, as quickly as it came, the track dies away all too suddenly.

Mercury follows with more vocal experimentalism, but more closely follows the trend set by Flux almost a year ago. The lyrics sound more reliably shrewd: ‘This is not the time to sign a new lease’ but they sound less pretentious than Ares. The drums continue the artillery barrage and give the track a polemical feeling that made A Weekend worthy of praise.

While the mood of the album is not by any means halted by the following song, Halo (yet again continuing the spiritual theme), Okereke’s tone shifts from politically orientated invective to romance:

“It was your hair that lit the fuse
A golden-brown halo
Like sunlight peeling through trees”

The admirable lyrics of the first verse, however, are deeply undermined by those of the second, which just look like deleted stanzas from a teenager’s poetry scrapbook:

“I ask you for the time
But I am asking for so much more
A moth to your light bulb
You made my heart beat faster”

This leaves only the music, which to my ears sound like the pop-punk songs of my tragically misspent youth, and seems hardly original when compared to Luno and b-side Version 2.0. Nonetheless the lead guitar manages to keep the song alive with the chorus riff, and in three and a half minutes the first third of Intimacy is gone, and with it the last signs of the poor parody of Silent Alarm Bloc Party attempted to conjure up.

We then move onto Biko (a reference to Steve Biko), at once a more interesting and engaging song than any of its predecessors. The song is quick to re-establish the spiritual link with an allusion to the River Styx, but does so more tenderly and opens up more interpretation. The faded vocal that keeps repeating ‘You’re not doing this alone’ fits perfectly with the image of a departed soul and the one they left behind metaphorically on the other side of the Styx, and is part of a whole variety of well-written lyrics sung at times earnestly, at times discordantly, but constantly candid and heartfelt. The five minutes invested in Biko pay off, and give it breathing space rather than dragging it out –a technique pioneered with prototypes Emma Kate’s Accident and Selfish Son.

Trojan Horse destroys the atmosphere created by Biko. Not that it is in itself a bad song, it merely demonstrates the two halves to Bloc Party’s bipolar mood-swings; Biko represents the quiet, self-contained and reflective half, Trojan the loud, socialite and whimsical. Detaching itself slightly from Greek mythology and resting on the famous legend surrounding Troy, the song depicts a manifesto of deference from one ex-lover to another. From the arrogant tone and familiar phrases, ‘You know I still adore you/But in a different kind of way’ it is clear that this is a persona rather than Kele himself, distancing a song such as this from Ares in terms of lyrical quality. Musically brash the tune resembles Secrets in composition, and renews the highly charged feeling that Ares only managed to momentarily glimpse.

Signs is the best song on Intimacy. Following the Biko pattern it follows a more delicate sound (conjured up by glockenspiels or xylophones) aided by taciturn guitars and a very light bass-drum background. The lyrics are almost too tender to reproduce here, but for sake of example:

“I can sleep forever these days
Cause in my dreams I see you again
But this time fleshed out fuller faced
In your confirmation dress”

Although following the theme of death and same tone as Biko, Signs is surprisingly hopeful (although not by any means upbeat) given its content, as Okereke explains: “I see signs now all the time/That you’re not dead, you’re sleeping”. The four and a half minutes breeze by beautifully like a cross between So Here We Are and SXRT, the latter perhaps being a more fitting comparison. But what place does it have in the spiritual theme, you ask? Well, if the confirmation dress wasn’t enough to sate you, apparently: the hyacinth is named after a Greek god who was mortally wounded while trying to catch Apollo’s discus. Tradition held it that bluebells and other plants of the hyacinthus genus are made from his spilled blood. Yeah.

Like Trojan Horse was to Biko, so is One Month Off to Signs. From the start it is instantly apparent that this is the best loud, brash song off the album, and surpasses all previous examples in both musical and lyrical ability. Angular and forceful the guitar rips through the fast, dance-inspired music Bloc Party have practised to perfection –a sort of blend between Silent Alarm and A Weekend that was promised by the dual-producer approach. Although the lyrics are not tender masterpieces like Like Eating Glass, Atonement or Sunday, Okereke frequently blurts out his chief witticism for this year with:

“I can be as cruel as you,

Fighting fire with firewood.

I can be as cruel as you,

Fighting lies with lies.”

The main problem I have is with the ending, where the effects and production takes over and jams the track into a stuttering, technological ending which seems ill-suited and lazy for such a brilliant song. In addition Okereke seems to have forgotten to carry his spiritual theme. Since this song is stuck between two of the most spiritual tracks on the album it’s possible to argue that this is not a lapse but an illustration of a lack of spirituality. Not that many people will care, though.

Zepherus is merely a drum-machine going crazy, which very sparse bass and a oratorio choir, which works with the music in a similar vein to the choir in Bloc Party’s Electric Proms performance about a year or so back -now, as then, it annoys me. While the second half of the song is greater in intensity, both parts of the song are flimsy attempts to recreate the success of A Weekend songs such as Prayer and On, the choir providing the nail in the coffin by repeating Okereke’s words in a horror movie trailer fashion that, rather than serving a link to old-fashioned and modern and creating an atmosphere of dread, compromises the whole mood; the lyrics for one thing are dark and moody but fail to live up to their ultra-serious standard.

The title refers to the Greek god who was another character in the Hyacinth story and creates a link with the jealousy invoked in both the myth and the lyrics, but this seems pretentious and superfluous compared to the tenderness of Signs.

Better Than Heaven is a peculiar song in that it is musically better than lyrically. Lyrically the song is either pretentious or mocking pretentiousness: “It’s sadder the smarter you get/And it’s a bore” and even goes as far as to make a Bible reference in the first verse. On the whole the lyrics reminded me of everything I hate about Morrissey and his lyrics, but is not entirely without worth; while it continues the spiritual theme it also depicts a struggle between intellectualism and religion, and the huge divide that seems to exist between them.

Musically the song is extremely good and will probably grow on listeners very quickly –it continues the energetic revival set up by One Month Off and makes sense of the garbled drum loop of Zepherus. Thin, springy lead guitar is a staple of Bloc Party (The Marshals Are Dead, Helicopter and, more fittingly in this case, Cain Said To Abel), and manages to work despite prominent drums and a variety of interesting sound effects –used more sparingly here than in One Month Off. The crescendo that occupies the latter third of the song makes the Marshals link more relevant, even drawing a comparison to Staying Fat, and mercifully draws attention away from the lyrics.

The final song, Ion Square, encapsulates the album as a whole. The rhythm section pounds on and on with ferocious intensity, representing the heavier aspects, the guitars twinkle pleasantly, representing the lighter aspects. Together the mould together to form one great sound that changes little in formula throughout the track, ambiguous in temperament and addictive. Although similar to I Still Remember it resembles more a kind of hypnosis tape, the bars floating away one after the other. It certainly does not interfere with the vocals, which rest on very likeable lyrics such as:

“If it could stay like this in a silver foil
Trapped in amber for a life
Permanent midnight
Hour alone, hour alone”

-although they barely manage to remain original when the chorus, “I carry your heart here with me/I carry it in my heart” is stolen from an E.E. Cummings poem. It does not, however, fall into pretentiousness like Better Than Heaven, despite referring to Blake and Moliére; these are cited in the context of personal experience and are off-hand rather than central. The penultimate verse, which refers to ‘dancing shoes’ and ‘bright lights’ might be conceived as a witty attack against the Arctic Monkeys and Interpol respectively. My only problem is with “‘Cause I love my mind when I’m fucking you”, which seems much too coarse for the otherwise sweet and slightly melancholic lyrics (which describe being locked in a loveless relationship). Nonetheless it is not enough in my opinion to ruin the song, but still sticks out awkwardly in the middle of an otherwise placid track.

The only remaining question is that of spirituality, which (with the exception of One Month Off) appears to have continued throughout the album unabated. As far as I can see there is no stark reference to spirituality, but there may be an allusion to astrology in the line “Let’s stay in, let the TV be our stars”, which, if it is, would probably signify rejection of spirituality and a return to the mundane nature of actual daily life.

This confusingly open-ended finale re-establishes my argument that Intimacy is supposed to confuse critics. In an industry where second and third albums are all too often criticized for not following up groundbreaking debuts Bloc Party could be attempting to throw off pursuers by throwing them such a varied album. Because Intimacy is not like the brash-yet-tender Silent Alarm, and not like the smooth, polished (and much criticized) A Weekend In The City, even though it combines elements of both. There is no set pattern or band of similar songs like on those previous records; Biko¸ Trojan Horse, Signs and One Month Off crash crazily together. And while you’re figuring out how far the Greek myths fit with the lyrics, or how Zepherus was ever conceived by the same people who brought you Waiting For The 7:18, or what an ‘ion square’ even actually is, the band are slipping out of the window and heading well out of harm’s way.

My overall opinion is that while there are many songs that have been fully developed (such as Mercury, Signs and One Month Off) there are troubling amounts that are half-finished or lazily done (such as Ares, Halo and Zepherus) –and this has never been a problem fans have had to face with Silent Alarm or A Weekend. With just over a year since the latter album was released it’s at least a relief that I can level the blame at a lack of time to expand on such an ambitious concept album, rather than incompetence and loss of talent. A lesson I for one have learned is that it there is such a thing as ‘too soon’ when it comes to new Bloc Party material.

It was always going to be difficult for London’s post-punk indie outfit Bloc Party to follow up two previous, highly successful albums, never mind incorporate a dramatic change in stylistic direction and a rushed release into the equation. But within their third outing, “Intimacy”, the band have managed to introduce something a little extra, something genuinely intriguing - a sense of humour.

“A Weekend in the City”, Bloc Party’s previous release in February 2007, saw vocalist Kele Okereke recount tales of an escalating sense of sexual identity, a discomfort at inner-city living and his experiences as a second generation immigrant, all of which told from a perspective of severity and intense emotion. Here on the other hand, Kele appears to have almost stepped back from the subject matter within the lyrics, allowing for a more analytical point of view to be expressed, and often, one which is that of almost mocking. This is not to say that substance has taken a blow for the worse, as opening track “Ares”’s first line declares: “War war war war/ I want to declare a war” before going on to recount an extensive list of problems that he notices across the world. Musically the track lives up to previous Bloc Party openers “Like Eating Glass” and “Song for Clay” with its frantic drumming, wailing guitars and mulit-tracked vocals providing a thundering opening before breaking down dramatically to a thinly textured call for what could have been: “And to think, that these hands/ Could work wonders, with their touch”.

The Album’s leading single, “Mercury” had fans up in arms as to where Bloc Party were going to take this new album, as new electronic elements found themselves replacing the guitar driven classics which they had known and loved. However, amongst the context of the album this song makes a lot more sense, and works perfectly to demonstrate the other extreme to the original Bloc Party sound between which the album manages to find a happy medium. Unfortunately, this happy medium does pave way several of the tracks into being left as a strictly average affair; disappointing considering what has been shown as possible from the band.

Released via the internet just days after finishing the recording process, “Intimacy” is a record that shows a band on the edge of creativity, breaking boundaries set out by themselves to create something that truly reflects where they are at this point in time. Whilst some of the tracks feel as if they are somewhat “Bloc-Party-by-numbers”, those that hit the nail on the head really do deliver something special. A controversial hit and miss affair leaves this album not quite up there with their stunning debut “Silent Alarm”, but despite alienating some hardcore fans, it does show a promise that, perhaps if more time had been spent, there’s still something left within the Bloc Party machine.

Release: 27/10/2008

Label: Wichita Recordings

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