Album Review: Bloc Party - A Weekend in the City (3.5 / 5)

So much has been written lately about the "difficult second album," with them coming out over the last year from acts like Kaiser Chiefs, Scissor Sisters, Keane, The Killers, and Justin Timberlake. These are acts whose debut albums were so massively popular that crafting the next disc presented a number of unusual challenges and questions: Should they basically do the same thing again and risk negative album reviews citing them as one-trick ponies? Should they go off in a new direction and risk their fans not liking it? The answer for most of these acts has been a combination of both: build off of the familiar song that won them acclaim in the first place, but try to expand upon those sounds and themes.

Bloc Party's first album, Silent Alarm, while not massive on the scale of the debut albums of the five acts listed above, did achieve its own level of acclaim, securing a Mercury Prize nomination and being named NME's Album of the Year for 2005. The album was notable for its energetic punk rock, some would call it "dance rock," but also featured some mellower tracks. Recognizing the dance potential of the tracks, the entire album was remixed and released just 6 months later.

So to answer that difficult question then, Bloc Party, rather than broaden their effort, have instead decided to make it more narrow, focusing A Weekend in the City on grand soundscapes evoking U2 and Radiohead influences, and weaving various lyrical subjects together around a central theme of a weekend of life in London, a theme played out in other recent works such by Lily Allen and The Good, the Bad, and the Queen.

"Song for Clay (Disappear Here)" opens quietly with light keyboards and almost whispered vocals before exploding forth with low guitar chords and forceful, repetitive drumming. Musically, it's a good song. Lyrically, it's a bit trying, it's theme being that the melancholic singer is "untouched" by the trappings of wealth his fame has brought, whether it be cocaine or foie gras. Snore; there's nothing more annoying than newly moneyed celebrities complaining about it. Similarly, "Hunting for Witches" is good musically, but not lyrically, touching on issues of contemporary response to terrorism--including the 2005 subway and bus bombings in London--but not saying anything original about them.

"Waiting for the 7.18" gives Sudoku its first mainstream musical reference, along with other commuting-related subjects such as subway noise, crosswords, and the regret of having not taken more risks in life--okay, I usually don't think about that while commuting, but you get the picture. Keyboard chords mixed with frantic electric guitars pump up the choruses here, contrasting with the mellower xylophone-sounding keyboards, somewhat like what the Killers do, but faster.

First single "The Prayer" is a standout track, opening with demanding drumming and low humming. The choruses shine forward with keyboards, quick bass pulses, and frenetic drumming. The subject here is a prayer to god for dancefloor supremacy, the terrorism concerns of the previous track apparently forgotten.

Cynical "Uniform" turns to consumerism and the "uniform" of rebellion marketed to young people, thinking they all look different, when really they don't, and then closing with the seemingly unrelated statement that "pop songs won't change the government." Not exactly wisdom, but interesting. Ominous "On" is about the allure of cocaine--how it gives you confidence, but then wears off and makes you feel even worse. The grand stadium sound evokes U2, and the strings lend a note of intimacy; it's an obvious choice for a follow-up single.

While most of the songs are more interesting musically than lyrically, "Where Is Home?" is an exception, tackling lead singer Kele Okereke's rumination on being the son of immigrant parents (his parents are from Nigeria) in a time when immigrant is a dirty word ("In every headline we are reminded that this is not home for us").

So, after the expensive dinner, terrorism, Tube trip, clubbing, shopping, cocaine, and racism, how does one finish off this weekend in London? Why with sex and love of course. Lovely "Kreuzberg" finds singer Kele--who's been firmly ambiguous in expressing his sexual orientation but seems pretty gay in these songs--yearning for love but finding only sex. Two teenage boys almost find love in "I Still Remember," where Kele laments the other boy (we know it's a British schoolboy, because he was wearing a tie) never having taken the first step ("You should have asked me for it") or himself ("I should have kissed you by the water"). This is all very familiar territory to any gay male who remembers the unrequited love of his youth; It's the highlight of the album's second half. "Sunday" finds Kele in love with someone, although hung over and strung out--better than nothing I guess.

A Weekend in the City is an ambitious second album, tackling both grand themes such as cultural conflict and the mundane boo-hoo of fame. It delivers a mixed bag, but earns marks for a worthy effort. Many of the songs lack distinction, even after repeated listens, but those that do (namely "Song for Clay," "The Prayer," "On," and "I Still Remember") are always enjoyable.