[Live Report] Interpol and Orlando Weeks at the Salle Pleyel: the spectrum of beauty…

Considering the ecstasy that could be read on the faces of the fans leaving the air conditioning of Pleyel at 11 p.m. to find the Parisian heat wave, the Interpol set had been a real success. Enough to convince even the most reluctant spectators…

We were just talking about it among friends, Interpol, a group literally extolled by their fans, were a real breath of fresh air when they landed in the very early 2000s and offered, with their elegant return to the cold wave of the eighties, an escape to the noisy and disheveled music of the grunge which had invaded everything. Carried by the regularly magnificent and touching song of Paul Banks and the chiming guitars, “post-punk” (as we didn’t really say at the time) of Daniel Kessler, this music had everything of a renaissance. 20 years later, while the group has struggled to renew itself on album, has offered concerts of variable quality, and has been challenged by hundreds (thousands!) of young groups who have chosen post-punk as their standard for their discomfort, Interpol is it still relevant?

20h : Orlando Weekswe must admit that we have lost track of him a bit since The Maccabees no longer exist, and the solo career, oriented towards a kind of rather experimental atmospheric pop, of the “man with the voice of an angel” has largely passed under our radars. We are therefore happy to find him, surrounded by a visibly very enthusiastic quartet, very happy to be there on stage to defend their music… even if we immediately notice the absence of a guitar, largely replaced by a trumpet exuberant. The first two titles hang well, which offer a discreet reminiscence of what we loved so much in the first two wonderful albums of the Maccabees. Orlando still has that singular voice, which moreover seems insecure on stage (but we can find that that’s part of his charm!): we are nonetheless struck by his nervousness, his disorderly gestures, by a sort of anguish that emanates from him, surprising for a singer with so much experience. And then, little by little, the set falls apart, loses consistency, interest: are it the too complex structures of the songs that lead us astray? or the fact that Orlando struggles to embody his music on stage? The last two titles slightly catch up with the impression of boredom that emerged from these too long 40 minutes. To be seen again, no doubt, in more intimate conditions than those offered by the slightly megalomaniac setting of the Salle Pleyel… (even if the quality of its air conditioning, in these times of heat wave, made us LOVE the room, this evening…)

9:10 p.m .: These are under the agreements of the soundtrack of the series Gomorrah that, dressed to the nines like Italian mobsters, bathed in red lights which will remain a great constant of the set, the musicians ofInterpol (and not “Interpole” as indicated at the Salle Pleyel bar, shame on them!) enter the main stage, greeted by an ovation which shows the fervor that the group still causes in 2022, far from our questions to us, “ non-fans. The atmospheric intro of Untitled serves as an introduction, before Evil reminds us why in 2004 we loved this band – so, let’s remind, in direct competition with their twin brothers / atavistic enemies (according to fans ofInterpol) d’Editors : yes, this direct cover of the music invented by Joy Division but where absolute darkness had been replaced by a hair-raising romanticism, still touches us as much!

Sam Fogarino, being ill, he is replaced on the drums by a double who will do the job well, without of course equaling the martial strike of the historic drummer of the group. right in front of us, Daniel Kessler will spend the concert having fun with his dance steps while delivering the sharp riffs that we love. Banks will remain planted in front of his microphone, poorly lit, to the great displeasure of the photographers, but will apply himself to singing for an hour and a half, intensely “incarnating” his songs: we deliberately use the same term as for Orlando Weeks, because, even if Banks is not strictly speaking a great singer, it is striking to compare the emotional strength of his singing with the confusion carried by the voice of Weeks. Pleyel’s sound is pretty good tonight, loud and clear, so no reason to complain (apart from the lights, as we said…).

The first part of the set nevertheless looks like a kind of warm-up… even if there again, the slight boredom that we will be able to feel here and there, in particular when Kessler abandons his guitar for keyboards on two songs, will certainly earn us the eternal anathema of the band’s fans. The new titles of the future album integrate well, and confirm thatInterpol continues on its way.

We have to wait for the – welcome – acceleration of All the Rage Back Home for the concert to really take off. The magnificent Rest My Chemistry – undoubtedly one of their most beautiful songs – confirms that the second part of the set will fly much higher than what preceded. Besides, Banks almost begins to smile (yes, he seems to be relaxing!), and the entrechats of Kessler are happier. The Rover has an almost pop immediacy that feels good, before the classics The New et PDA don’t finish us…

We will still regret thatInterpolcarried by the enthusiasm of the crowd, do not deign to depart from their eternal rule of three songs, no more, for an encore a little below what preceded: we know well that fantasy is not the great group quality.

Needless to say that in the well-stocked camp of true admirers of the band, superlatives abound (“I took a crazy walk!”, “fucking amazing!”), and we’re happy for them. From our point of view, this concert above all confirmed thatInterpol won’t revolutionize anything anymore, that they still tend to lack intensity, but that, thanks to Banks’ singing (when he’s in good shape like tonight…), they know how to replace it with something that can squeeze your heart : on Rest My Chemistry Or on Leif Eriksonthis evening, a kind of specter even floated on their set, which we would not have hoped to glimpse…

… that of BEAUTY.

Photos : Robert Gil
Texte : Eric Debarnot

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