I figured it out... For those of us who never really got over high school, there are those moments in life when we feel we've stepped back in time. A song, a scent, a line of film dialogue can take us back to a simpler, dare I say, more nostalgic time. Then there are those other times when we feel our age bitterly as reality crashes in on our respective Peter Pan and Tinkerbell complexes. By now, I'm sure dear reader, you must realize that your humble narrator is filled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, curious to see which of these feelings the evening will evoke.

If you've been reading this blog regularly, and I'm sure you have, you'll be familiar with my uncomfortable obsession with the latest crop of Britain's angular "yelp-rock" bands. So it is with bated breath that I accompany A-Ranger to the East Side to hook up with Robo Cobo and K-Roc for the Bloc Party show. Their jagged hooks and shimmering riffs have been fraying the nerves and speaker screens of the SFB#1 household for months.

A note about openers The Kills. Having seen a single video, I expected a delightfully nostalgic set of JMAC/Mazzy-esque drone rock to ease us into the show. Clearly, I'm leaning towards time travel tonight. Too bad their efficient German songwriting esthetic didn't extend to their set list. (Um, they're not German, they're a US/UK Hybrid - Geography ED / Whatever, he's riffing - Buzz Kill ED) All the pleasure of watching a soundtrack in the making, according to A-Ranger.

At the risk of digressing further… Now I'm no fan of the Docks in general. All the charm of having your Prom at the Falls View casino with bathroom attendants that always leave me feeling uncomfortable and without bus fare. A quick scan of the crowd suggests that that oh so important (semi-ironic?) T-shirt seems to be losing ground to the striped I-zod-esqe polo that Old Navy is flogging like its going out of style (counting down, 10, 9, 7, 6, 5…) My god, I have been transported back to St. Catharine's Prep Party Hell circa 1980-something. This is a John Hughes reunion in the making. It doesn't help that the bastard child of Jon Cryer and Matthew Broderick has just blocked my view. If Nerd is the new Black, then I think the Jocks are mounting a bloody coup.

If all of this weren't enough to make me miss my mullet and ball point graffiti-ed Chuck Taylors, I turn around and come face to face with the one and only AD-AD-NUT-HOUSE, my best-est, skate-rat, O.G. (Original GeekRock) buddy from, er, um, high school. A round of introductions SFB#1 - Stamford Girl I Never Met. A-Ranger - Ad Ad, Robo - Ad Ad, K-Roc - and so on…

Oh right, so the show. We are in a total dead zone for sound, but we have managed to avoid being hemmed in by genetically modified (and freakishly tall) teenaged goat-boys. Kele Bloc and his Party-ers take the stage and steam into "Like Eating Glass" and "Positive Tension". Is "So fucking USELESS!" the next anthem of our, er, they’re, er someone’s generation? By the time "Banquet" whirls forth the dance floor is a sea of bouncing trucker hats and turned up polo collars. You kids ARE so underrated, so negated. There is an admirable level of banter from Kele and the lads. It’s enough to show the band appreciate our fandom, but not so much that they forget they are here to rock us not try out new stand up material. Little Known FACT - Kele is moving to Canada. Or so he claims. They graciously play some B-sides (pandering to us snobby rockists and we love every minute of it) but you can see the confusion in the faces of the obvious EDGE Listeners every time they don’t recognize "This Modern Love" or "Helicopter". But that's neither here nor there. These lads came to play and we love them for it. And it's obvious why they are such a hit. Kele's charm and smile evoke the spirit of a youthful Tom Jones as bras and knickers pelt the stage. Russel’s jagged guitars give the Indie Boys something they don't totally have to disdain. They rhythm section is so tight you can bounce coins off them, so much so that a couple of yobs almost spoil the show by flinging loonies at the band. Their songs of youthful angst and ennui shimmer with hooks big enough to snag the most jaded music fan. They've got the look down. Skinny, falling off their arse jeans, Supergrass is Ten-esque guitar strap badges, vision-obscuring fringe. This is everything a rock show should be, bar the atrocious venue and sound.

However, something nags at the back of my mind. Yes, I feel the nostalgia. Yes, dancing horses and lips like sugar come to mind. Yes, echoes of transmissions distort my reception. All of the accepted references have come to mind. So what in bloody hell is bugging me so much? The second song of the encore is "So Here We Are" and everything falls into place. "Tenderness" by General Public. That's it. I'm Michael Anthony Hall in Weird Science and while I hope I'm in the shower with Kelly Le Brock I know I'm actually about to be pants-ed by Robert Downey Jr. and Robert Rusler. The Jocks have overthrown the Nerds.

They close (or so we think) with a shimmer of the YYY's "Maps" that evolves into "Pioneers". Then the reality of our age crashes in. There is no rock’n’roll transcendence for us. We slip out the side to beat the crowds so we can be ferried off to sleep to rise again to process goods for sale, sell processed goods or whatever grown up thing it is we do. I find out later that we missed two more songs. (Thanks Bloc Forum) I won't make the same mistake at Interpol. I am nothing, if I am not Super Fan Boy #1.

Set List
Like Eating Glass
Positive Tension
Banquet – So underrated
Bluest Light
She’s Hearing Voices
The Marshals Are Dead
This Modern Love
New Song
Luno
New Song
Helicopter

Encore
New Song or – Dub Reggae Vibe & "Time is a Healer" corus
So Here We Are
Price of Gas
Pioneers

Second Encore Regrettably missed by SFB#1
Skeleton
The Answer  ¶ 12:29 AM