Emerging into the crowd wearing a crown, frontman Win Butler is greeted like a king at Arcade Fire’s afterparty. This is a confident band: one not afraid to bill the show under the alter-ego ‘The Reflektors’; one that sees no problem in making fancy dress/formal attire mandatory at their gigs; one where the entrance to the show is made after wandering the streets with a Mariachi band; one that enters the crowd pre-show adorned with their infamous oversized papier mache heads to take photos and dance with fans. Five years ago Arcade Fire had only a small cult following, now they can safely be classed as one of the best, most experimental bands in the world. As expected, when I succeeded in getting tickets for their relatively intimate Blackpool show I was beyond excited.
On route to the show I wondered how many people would actually dress up for the occasion. I was quietly relieved when my eye caught a glimpse of the queue flowing out of the Blackpool Empress Ballroom; every single person had at least made an effort. The most popular dress choice for men seemed to be suited-and-booted with a black mask facepainted on, akin to Win’s. The ladies were far more varied, some in full cabaret style outfits, others in ball gowns.
Being in the first few hundred to arrive, we were promised “something special for the show”. That something special may have just been a glowstick and a paper mask, but we also got invited into the ballroom early. Which meant the band passed right by us on their procession with the Mariachi band, playing a rendition of ‘Reflektor’.
Shortly after we, the keen early arrivals, were ushered into the grandiose ballroom, which was decked out for something special: huge disco balls were suspended from the ceiling, gold streamers hung from the walls and a spotlight projected ‘The Reflektors’ logo onto the closed stage curtains.
After about half an hour a choreographer emerged and announced she would be teaching us a dance to the song ‘We Exist’. In the spirit of the night, we took to the Thriller-esque routine like we’d known it all our lives. Now properly excited, we awaited the band as the rest of the crowd were slowly allowed into the ballroom. Another half an hour later several members of the band made their way into the audience wearing huge caricature-style papier mache heads. If there were any areas of the crowd not quite in the party spirit, that no doubt changed here. In such a modest venue, it truly felt like a carnival.
With no support act and two hours after doors opened the distinctive drumbeat of ‘Rebellion (Lies)’ began and the curtain fell. However, what was revealed was the ‘fake’ version of Arcade Fire: a band wearing the papier mache heads playing instead. Soon after the band shooed their imitators offstage and began with ‘Normal Person’. The crowd erupted as Win Butler dipped his hand in to take phones from people and photograph the audience. The floor of the ballroom became almost spring-like when it came to the chorus of the song, everyone was dancing. And with a set made up of 60% new material, getting this kind of reaction is perhaps testament to how well the new album has been received.
Three songs in the band play inevitable roof-raiser ‘Neighbourhood #3 (Power Out)’. The pace does not slow even slightly and they segue back to Reflektor material with punchy versions of ‘Joan of Arc’ and ‘You Already Know’, where the newfound disco/carnival style is right at home.
The bassline of ‘We Exist’ kicks in and it sounds like we could be at a Michael Jackson concert in the ‘80s. That feeling perhaps heightened by the accompanying dance, which although slightly askew from drunkenness is largely followed with precision and poise.
After reading reviews of the band’s London and Glasgow shows earlier in the month, I knew what to expect next. An acapella version of ‘Porno’ acted as an introduction to the standout song from Reflektor ‘Afterlife’. What I didn’t expect was for every light in the room to turn towards the giant disco ball in the centre, making for a spectacular lightshow. What is a brilliant song on record anyways, was turned into one the best live performances of any song I think I’ve ever seen; the crowd were hooked on Win’s every word as he danced around stage to the soaring guitar and exotic drumbeat, provided by two Haitian percussionists. The band’s description of their new style as “a mixture of Haitian voodoo and Studio 54” begins to make sense.
Fading seamlessly into my favourite Arcade Fire track, Régine Chassagne takes centre stage for the dreamlike ‘Sprawl II’. Almost entering the crowd during the instrumental, Régine begins a wonderfully carefree dance with glow in the dark streamers. The song draws to a close, but the crowd are left no time to recuperate as the roaring guitar part that opens the anthem ‘Wake Up’ begins. Once again the crowd erupt, devotedly singing along to the opening cry of the song. A cover of Ramones ‘Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World’ and a upbeat version of ‘Here Comes the Night Time’ draw the carnival to a close for now.
An encore is expected and the crowd stay in high spirits, singing and dancing in the interval. Soon after Win, Régine and Owen Pallet appear to the side of the stage and begin a stripped back version of ‘My Body is a Cage’ from Neon Bible. Adorning a reflective mask Win again takes centre stage for ‘Reflektor’, and the band burst into a party onstage, where a crowdsurfer is dragged up by Win and invited to dance with the band. Funeral classic ‘Haiti’ ends the show, with the Haitian percussionists remaining onstage to slowly bring the show to a close, the perfect subdued ending.
A DJ set in the ballroom kicks off the afterparty, during which Win wanders out and greets his fans. Soon after emerging he is inevitably swamped, but the sentiment is what counts – and even though he is practically being manhandled into the air, the smile on his face is as genuine as the fans’ love for the band.
I questioned the venue choice over and over, as I’m sure lots of others did, the same with the dress-code, but walking out of the Empress Ballroom drenched in sweat, humming ‘Haiti’ shoulder-to-shoulder with hundreds of other people dressed equally as eccentrically, it all made sense.