After a year of relentless touring, it’s all over. I’ve seen Arcade Fire 14 times this year, from the intimacy of the BBC’s Maida Vale Studios to the vast fields of Glastonbury. Some shows have been better than others, a couple have even disappointed but it still remains that at their best, there isn’t a single other band on the planet that can come close to their brilliance. Saying that, Saturday wasn’t their best hour. The cavernous Ally Pally was never going to be an easy job for the sound people, and the acoustics did seem echo-ey and slightly thin throughout. More irritating were the violent, cerebrally-challenged contingent of drunken yobs and displaced Twang fans that crushed, punched, elbowed and generally inflicted discomfort upon anyone within 20 metres of the barrier. The band’s performance too seemed to lack something, despite a blinding start- the madcap Tom and Jerry chaos of Laika, which had Richard wildly chucking drumsticks across the stage at Will was the best rendition of that song I’d seen since the Funeral tour. But an ill-judged cover of the Smith’s Still Ill dissipated the momentum that’d been so carefully built up at the beginning of the show, and they never really recovered. Even Power Out and Rebellion were shorn of their usual energy, many fans unable to enjoy themselves due to the actions of the twattish minority. A breathtaking, frantic rendition of Wake Up (MOSHPIT!) did make up for some of the deficiencies and don’t get me wrong- it was still, in comparison to most bands, an excellent show but overall it fell short of their exceedingly high standards.
Luckily, the following night turned out to be one of the most wonderful displays of live music I have ever witnessed. The soundboard going kaput during My Body Is A Cage (and rendering Win’s vocals inaudible) prevented it from being the Best Gig Ever, but fuck me, it was definitely up there. It started off amazingly, with Black Mirror, Laika, No Cars Go and Haiti, before a mild dip with the middling My Body Is A Cage and the aforementioned MBIAC (although the unintended ‘instrumental’ version wasn’t actually that much of a disaster.) After sound was restored, they moved into the more chilled middle-section of their setlist; a delicate, subtle Neon Bible, a fantastic impromptu cover of Bruce Springsteen’s State Trooper (which could have come straight from their second album) and a rousing Intervention, much more impressive than Saturday’s lacklustre acoustic version. But, as much as I’d been enjoying myself thus far, I hadn’t seen nothing yet.
Seeing Headlights live had become something of an obsession for me since I first heard the divine Electric Picnic recording back in September 2005, but they’d cruelly avoided playing it any of the previous shows I'd been to. It would only appear at nights immediately before or after the ones I was at, and I'd convinced myself fate would forever deny me the chance to "ooooooooo-ooooo-oo-oo-oo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo" along with Regine and co. So, when Win announced those magic words, “this song’s called Headlights Look Like Diamonds,” I naturally started squealing like a Take That fangirl. And apart from the backing vocals being too low in the mix, it was perfect; the UKKer’s standing in front of me pulled me forward towards the barrier, I forgot the lyrics in my state of shock but God, I was so deliriously happy. I remember Will running back and forth across the stage like a madman, and violist Marika grinning at our little phalanx of obsessees going absolutely mental, but most of all, I remember the sheer sense of wonder at how, even after fifteen times seeing them, they could still completely take my breath away.
But that wasn’t enough for Arcade Fire, oh no. They then followed up with- in succession- The Well And The Lighthouse, Tunnels, (Antichrist Television Blues), Power Out, Rebellion, Keep The Car Running and finally, Wake Up; no less than 45 minutes of non-stop, heart-pounding, voicebox-destroying, pogo-tastic AWESOMENESS. The very definition of what a live show should be, I had tears of joy in my eyes by the end and underlined the reason why I’d fallen so completely in love with this band, and gigs as a whole, in the first place.
Understandably, Monday couldn’t live up to the utterly sublime show the night before, but it was still a wonderful send-off. The main niggle was the rather par-for-the-course setlist, apart from a gorgeous cover of New Order’s “Age of Consent” and a welcome appearance of recent B-side “Surf City Eastern Block,” but any failures on the surprises front was easily made up for with a sublime, no-holds-barred performance. If Laika on Saturday had been fantastic, Monday’s was GODLY- by far the best rendition of that song I have ever seen. Richard and Will picked each other up, wrestled on the ground, used each other as ad hoc drumkits and at one point even fell off the stage, bleeding and bruised. The wilfully anarchic spirit so notably absent at their earlier shows this year was out in full force, and this energy carried to every other part of their set. (Antichrist Television Blues) was as good as I’ve ever heard it, having become as intrinsic an element of the live show as anything else off Neon Bible- I particularly liked how Richard, Will, Win and Regine crowded round a single mic during the final verses, as if they were some Depression-era blues act. And the final Wake Up of the tour was both poignant and euphoric, with support band Wild Light randomly commandeering instruments whilst band and audience to a man put their all into making it the most perfect ending possible to Arcade Fire’s last UK show for two years.
Finally, as amazing as this band are, it wouldn’t have been half the experience without the folks I’ve met on the way. I’ve made some great friends this year, and it’s been an pleasure getting to chat to so many people from such a variety of different places. Roll on 2009!
(Photos: Alan Bee (Flickr); John Gleeson))
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