The British music mag NME called Bloc Party “uncategorisable.” While that isn’t a real word, the point was clear when the magazine used it to describe the band’s debut, Silent Alarm. Though it didn’t necessarily deserve that label, the group distinguished itself from the pack of poppy post-punk peers with lead singer Kele Okereke’s heartfelt lyrics and sometimes overly emotive vocals. While the more lyrically ponderous moments on their debut were largely made up for by tight percussion and sharp guitar stabs, the band’s self importance has driven their latest offering, A Weekend in the City, to U2-esque levels of pontification without the chops to back it up.
To be fair, A Weekend in the City isn’t all duds. “Hunting for Witches” recalls the first half of the band’s debut, riding a programmed dance beat and flaunting an angular guitar riff sinister enough to be worthy of the song’s namesake.
But the highlights end there. The rest of City is weighed down by ill-advised production flourishes and Kele’s increasingly annoying vocals. The once-jagged guitars are polished to a glistening shine; “I Still Remember” features a riff that wouldn’t sound out of place on childhood favorite Full Houseshy;—it’s that smarmy. Kele’s lyrics are equally horrible. With lines like, “Well I was brave and unique/intelligent/a snowflake/I could have been a hero,” the listener can’t help but choke on his or her own vomit.
A Weekend in the City is currently streaming in its entirety on Bloc Party’s MySpace.com profile. This is bad for two reasons: it makes this horrible music readily accessible to the public, and it strips the album of its only conceivably good use—that of a paperweight.
