Interpol at the St James

Interpol are (from left) Sam Fogarino, Paul Banks, Carlos Dengler and Daniel Kessler.

By far the best-dressed gig of the year, both for the punters and the band.

TV3's John Campbell was there. But come on John, we know you like Orange Juice (the late 70s, early 80s New Wave band), and we know Interpol wear suits, and your show only finished an hour ago ... but take a change of clothes to work if you're going to a gig.

Campbell did look the part, considering the presence of the stylish New Yorkers standing before us. But, it has to be said, Interpol's duds (especially the bass player's) were more streamlined than John's.

Interpol had style - be it guitarist Daniel Kessler's buff hairdo or bass player Carlos Dengler's dramatic, up-ending bass guitar stabs - but the substance was a little lacking.

It wasn't really the band's fault, more to do with lead singer Paul Banks and his onstage persona.

He's got an incredibly shin-shuddering voice - it is unique, dark, passionate and excellent - but he has the personality of a stubborn goat.

It's hard to know if it is aloofness or something to do with the fact this band has been touring for 18 months solid and he's a bit complacent.

However, the highlight of this gig was how cool it is when a band can rely on just their songs to carry them through a concert.

Interpol are masters at hitting a crescendo, doing nothing, and then bang, drummer Sam Fogarino (the star of this show) incites some passion out of nowhere when you least expect it.

Starting with the chilling Next Exit, it was a good old-fashioned run through their latest album, Antics, with highlights including Evil, Narc and Public Pervert, as well as a good sprinkling of tracks from their 2002 debut Turn On the Bright Lights.

But what were they thinking playing Slow Hands, a single off Antics, as their second song? A mistake. That song is a potential mosh pit anthem and the crowd was ebbing, but imagine, just imagine if it was in the encore.

Special mention has to go to Fogarino, who is a precise, pounding mountain of a wee man. It was he who provided most of the exhilaration.

Joy Division (note, that's the first time the band has been mentioned in this review) would be proud of him. But you get the feeling the lads just want to get home to New York for a rest.