Photo: Aaron Sammut

I like the Convention Centre. It has a certain transient ambiance, like walking through an airport on a weeknight. Or perhaps it could be some futuristic museum – with its high ceilings punctuated by patterned metallic trusses – though admittedly a poor one, its primary exhibits only over-priced refreshments and questionable 21st Century fashion choices.

It’s within this strange atmosphere that Youth Group take to the stage, and is still present when they depart it. Their easy listening Australian rock does little to lift the veil of ambivalence in the sparsely populated viewing chamber. Their primary crime I suspect is having the gall to play on a Tuesday night. I feel a twinge of regret after they’ve left, but it soon passes.

Interpol enter to a good deal of applause, and I’m genuinely excited by their presence. Though that feeling passes quickly as well, as the band mince through material off their three albums. Paul Banks seems embattled a lot of the time, with much of the music’s impetus coming from the infallible Sam Fogarino. Carlos D comes into his own on Slow Hands and is magnificent from there on in. Daniel Kessler is the liveliest of the four, running between his pedals and the rhythm section like an elated puppy, though his band-mates are too regal to humour him.

Photo: Aaron Sammut

The after party at the Troubadour is a curious thing. Interpol are there, DJing, dropping perfectly danceable beats to a room packed full of industry types who mostly refuse to dance or even acknowledge the band’s presence. I guess – like me – they all regularly hang out at the Troubadour at 2am on a Wednesday morning, sitting on the couches, waiting for their day jobs to start.

JAKEB SMITH

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