Last Sunday, Melbourne was set alight by the seismic force of Bloc Party, as they took over John Cain Arena returning to the altar of indie rock to celebrate the 20th anniversary of their debut record, 'Silent Alarm'.
On this night of rock opera (3 August), this wasn't just a trip down memory lane; it was a full-body, soul-stirring reminder of the band's enduring power.
With every strobe-lit riff and sweat-slicked snare, they ignited something primal in the crowd – nostalgia, yes, but also a renewed reverence for the kind of raw, restless energy that only Bloc Party can summon.
Opening the show with grace and depth, Young the Giant took the stage for the first time in Australia after a 15-year absence. Their set blended slow-burning swirling guitars with silky vocals, giving their sound that beautiful fusion of atmospheric alt-rock and coastal cool.
Favourite tracks like 'Cough Syrup[ and 'My Body' had the crowd warmed up, curating the perfect emotional palette for Bloc Party's punky energy.
Young the Giant - image © Danielle Annetts
As the lights dimmed and a pulse of anticipation rippled through John Cain Arena, Bloc Party entered the stage with a soft and quiet confidence only a band two decades in can command.
As I looked around the arena, it began to feel less like a concert and more a trip back in time. The crowd, filled with old fans, were bustling to see one of their favourites from their youth.
A purple smoke haze filled the air as the band kicked it off with 'So Here We Are', frontman Kele Okereke's voice urgent and defiant, his vocals cutting clean through the air like neon wire, while Russell Lissack's (lead guitarist) riffs shrieked and shimmered, dancing somewhere between punk assault and ambient dreamscape.
Keeping the beat and backing up vocals, Louise Bartle brought precision and a sharpness to the stage, while newest member Harry Deacon (bass guitarist, synthesiser) brought a fresh rhythm to old tracks.
Bloc Party - image © Danielle Annetts
Continuing down the track list of the band's iconic album, we heard the twitchy propulsion of 'Positive Tension' and 'She's Hearing Voices'. Kele's angelic voice, with his sharp, raspy tones hitting the crowd in punchy ways.
He stopped to ask the crowd: "Are we going to have some fun tonight?" Which, unsurprisingly, we all cheered back with a confident "yes!".
Slowing down to a softer tempo change, the band took us further down the formative album's tracklist with 'Blue Light' and 'Price Of Gasoline', giving the crowd the perfect balance between dancefloor-worthy tracks and raw indie anthems.
Building the dance floor into a chaotic frenzy during 'Banquet', the crowd singing along to the thought-provoking lyrics 'turning into myself' as Kele's raw vocals paired with the angular guitar riffs and sharp turns, giving the crowd of misfits that dance-punk energy they were craving; that release, that riot of sound and emotion stitched into time.
Bloc Party - image © Danielle Annetts
If there's one thing Bloc Party have a special talent for, it's that sharp tempo change between soft introspection into an eruption of theatrical grunge-rock.
With a moment's break in between songs, Kele asked for the house lights to be turned on to see the venue full of misfits and rebels. As the auditorium waved to say hello, Kele asked: "Did we like that? Because they (the band) certainly did."
Now for round two. Bloc Party began tearing through their next two decades of hits with visceral passion and precision, proving why they helped define this rebellious indie era with their sharp yet sweeping, soft yet hard-hitting sound.
Kicking off the second half of the show with another one of our favourites 'Signs', the jumping crowd, with hands in the air, singing along to "one for you and one for me", creating the feeling of mischief in the air.
Bloc Party - image © Danielle Annetts
As our time with the London legends was coming to an end, they reminded us that "all we have is time," with their classic song 'The Pioneers'. With a measured resolve and reflective tone woven into Bloc Party's signature blend of urgency and texture it reminded all of us to persevere and walk paths that feel right, even if no one else has walked them before.
With a final toast and celebration of 'Silent Alarm', 'Helicopter' took over the room. With an eruption from the crowd, not a single person was standing still. With this song creating a buzz and ode to a generation of indie misfits, dance-floor romantics and guitar-wielding daydreamers.
One of the band's most kinetic and sarcastic tracks, the song sparked a sense of nostalgic deviousness and angsty trouble throughout the room. Looking around the crowd I noticed the misfits truly were out for a bit of mischief and chaos, with many acting like their careless teenage selves again.
To level out the rowdiness and lean into the heart of 'This Modern Love', the gang onstage took us on a masterclass in tension and release. The crowd erupted, shouting lyrics, arms flung wide, all while time seemed to slow down so we could all savour the moment with one of our treasured favourites.
Electric. Cathartic. Nostalgic. Yet forward-moving. The atmosphere pulsed from intense dance-punk grooves to a sweeping emotional moment.
Bloc Party - image © Danielle Annetts
To finish out this night of defiant celebration was the perfect ode to dance-punk anthems, 'Ratchet'. Bursting with attitude, Bloc Party "made it loud, made it proud and made it count".
Not a body in the house was still, everyone was up and making the most of the last tune to be played, soaking up the last of the mischievous energy before the realisation that Monday morning was creeping in.
As we left the jam-packed venue and caught our breath, my friend Julia and I debriefed about the events of the night. Wishing we had heard a few more of our Bloc Party favourites, we still felt grateful for what the British band had delivered.
For anyone in that arena, this wasn't just another show; it was a declaration that Bloc Party remain not only relevant, but necessary in bringing out the rebel in all of us. Twenty years on, the band still summoned a level of collective euphoria that few bands are able to do.
Where every sharp strum felt like a heartbeat, and each lyric landed like a memory; resurrecting moments in time we thought we had forgotten. A reminder that some records live forever, especially when played like this: loud, proud and like it counts.
More photos from the concert.
