The PA is switched on, the massive speakers lurching into life. The lights go up. Arcade Fire emerge to deafening cheers from the crowd and within seconds they seem more visceral, more urgent than ever.
Launching into ‘Ready To Start’ the Canadian group push their material into yet more furious areas. Pushed along at breakneck pace the track threatens to career out of control, the velocity of the barely contained guitars dragging the band along behind them. Barely pausing for breath, Arcade Fire burst into ‘Month Of May’ – on record an edge, even paranoid rant. Performed live, though, the song becomes a furious outburst, the drums firing machine gun volleys across the heads of the audience.
Opening with a brace from recent album ’The Suburbs’ Arcade Fire are clearly in a confident mood. So confident, in fact, that they opt to throw in a few old favourites. Pairing their new material alongside now seminal tracks, the band emphasise the sense of lineage, of progression which runs through their work. ‘Which is your favourite album?’ someone asks. ‘Who cares?’ I reply. They all come from the same voice, part of the same conversation which shows no signs of dimming.
Looking around, it’s clear that the band’s music attracts a somewhat varied crowd. Sure, the hipsters are here as ever but alongside them are a group of people who probably remember the last time brogues and moustaches were fashionable. From the purple rinse brigade to the Rinse generation it seems that Arcade Fire can push past these boundaries, and nowhere is this more pronounced than their live show.
At times bordering on The E Street Band, Arcade Fire suddenly drop the bravado for a series of slow ballads. Regine takes centre stage, with ‘Haiti’ given new context by the recent environmental catastrophe on the island. The rock bluster gives way to a wider sonic palette, with Arcade Fire using strings, glocks and more to insert a certain tenderness.
A momentary break from the stage fools no one, with Arcade Fire returning to yet more deafening applause. The obligatory encore is given a more personal edge, though, by Win Butler’s story about the band’s first show. Performing to a crowd of five people, his scientist father admitted to a fondness for their final track – “a Scottish war song”. Perhaps music criticism isn’t his forte, but the roar which greeted ‘Wake Up’ would surely earn a place in any ‘Braveheart’ re-make. Perhaps this generation’s most important band, caught at the peak of their powers.