British Invasion Fatigue Syndrome — or BIFS — is an affliction that strikes countless American music fans each year. Like seasonal auditory flu, BIFS typically attacks listeners directly upon contact with any hyperbole touting the “next big thing” from over the pond.
First identified in the aftermath of the Beatles and Rolling Stones, the condition usually manifests in two dichotomous but equally debilitating symptoms. One reaction is a weakening of the aural defenses, resulting in an inability to recognize that, say, Travis, Coldplay and Oasis are mediocre knock-offs of much better British bands, and pretty goddamn dull by comparison.
BIFS 2, on the other hand, is characterized by an onset of deafness at the mere mention of phrases like “Mancunian,” “Scouse,” “NME,” “Brit pop” or “post-punk.” While this effect can save sufferers time and money, an unfortunate side effect is that many Americans tend to miss the inventive and adventurous music being made by a handful of memorable British acts (cf., My Bloody Valentine, Swervedriver, Spiritualized).
A more recent example would be London’s Bloc Party. The quartet’s 2004 debut, Silent Alarm, is one of the most promising guitar-rock records — British or otherwise — released in years. It earned hosannas on both sides of the Atlantic for its propulsive, beat-rich mesh of styles, subtle social commentary and urgent balls-out guitar abandon. Unlike many modern British acts seeking inspiration in sonic territory already strip-mined by the Beatles, Echo & the Bunnymen or the Stone Roses, it’s not easy playing pin-the-influences-tail on Bloc Party songs. Practically the whole Brit-rock canon seems to course through Silent Alarm, from early Roxy Music and Queen art-rock to Buzzcocks punk and English Beat ska-pop, PiL and early Cure guitar shards to Mo’ Wax dance beats and Kid A computer textures.
The result is a hybrid far more nuanced than the “post-punk” label critics lazily tag on Bloc Party, who say they are equally inspired by adventurous American bands like Sonic Youth, Pavement and the Pixies. Of course being English comes with the compulsory downside of being championed by that nation’s music press as the saviors of Brit-rock. But unlike most British bands du jour, who tend to vanish as quickly as their American or European tours fizzle (Test Icicles, anyone?), Bloc Party’s innovative approach exhibits real staying power. With the help of their incendiary live shows, there are already rabid enthusiasts throughout Britain, Europe and the U.S. And with a new record — A Weekend in the City — set for release Feb. 7, the buzz around Bloc Party is growing rather than waning.
None of which particularly concerns their lead singer, guitarist and songwriter, Kele Okereke.
“There’s always some new band on the cover of the NME every week that has a cool haircut or wears nice trousers, but when you listen to their music, it’s awful,” Okereke says by phone from London. “During the Brit-Pop heyday in the UK, when every new band that was coming out of Britain was being trumpeted as the saviors of rock music, I really felt quite alienated from that, mainly because of the jingoistic mentality. It seems that the British music press is really obsessed with continually referring to the British Invasion, just harking back to the glory days of the 1960s. I think that kind of obsession with nostalgia is always counter-productive.”
Okereke and guitarist Russell Lissack began writing songs together in 1999. Bassist Gordon Moakes signed on a year later, after answering an ad in the NME, and drummer Matt Tong joined in 2003. Bloc Party got their first break when Okereke convinced Franz Ferdinand to let the band open for them. Okereke, a second-generation Londoner whose parents immigrated to Britain from Nigeria, came of musical age in the multi-culti 1990s. He was exposed to a potpourri of music, from techno beats and Madonna pop to shoegaze, Brit-Pop, and a host of American influences. That barrage of modern media still informs Okereke’s songwriting process.
“There haven’t been that many bands in the mainstream that really seemed to reflect the schizophrenic nature of having to listen to music nowadays,” he says, citing Radiohead as an exception to that rule. “I think that’s very symptomatic of growing up in a post-MTV age. It seems like your senses are continually being bombarded with stimulus, and honest music should reflect that experience in some way.”
Listening to Silent Alarm, Bloc Party seems to share a similar aesthetic to Toronto’s Broken Social Scene, which Okereke cites as another influence. The Canadian collective acts like a clearing house of musical styles that somehow maintain a coherent vision; in Bloc Party’s case, it’s primarily Okereke’s vision.
With North American bands influencing Bloc Party as much as British ones, it’s not surprising that the U.S. has been good to the band. Bloc Party played sold-out shows on their last tour here, which included dates on both coasts and the Southwest. But this tour represents a couple of firsts: Their initial supporting tour, and their inaugural journey to the South. For a black man fronting a rock band, the visit comes with both trepidation and curiosity.
“You’ve read so much and heard so many apocryphal stories,” Okereke says, “that I’m mildly frightened. I remember speaking to the singer from the Dears (Murray Lightburn) about a show they played somewhere in the South, and somebody shouted out, ‘You play it, boy.’ So I don’t know what to expect, really, but I’m going to try and keep an open mind.”
Reading Bloc Party’s press without the bio or accompanying photos, you might not know that a black man fronts the band. Okereke says that’s because he made a conscious decision not to let the music press make his ethnicity an issue.
“I went through a period where I wouldn’t really answer questions about race,” he says. “I’ve always thought it would be far more powerful socially to not make an issue out of it. And I think that’s ultimately what we’re aiming for, where my nationality or ethnicity wasn’t an issue at all, but it was more about what I’d actually created.
“It will be different with this next record in that there are certain songs that are specifically about notions of ethnicity and being a second-generation black person in the UK,” he says of A Weekend in the City. “As an artist, you can only describe the world through your own perspectives, through the way that you see the world and the way the world interacts with you, and of course a lot of that is shaped by the color of my skin. This record is a lot more personal record than the first one, so I’m aware that it’s something I’m going to have to address more this time around.”
Bloc Party plays Cricket Arena on Friday, Nov. 10, at 7:30 p.m. opening for Panic! At the Disco; Jack’s Mannequin also appears; $30; info at www.ticketmaster.com.
This article appears in Nov 8-14, 2006.
