In the past few years, the hype machine that is Great Britain's music scene has put the spotlight on two types of rock acts: those that make you dance and those that bow to the sounds of yesteryear. Sure, these categories certainly ignore a number of acts with brilliant sounds and vibrant creativity, but the shake-yer-rump vs. reimagined-nostalgia bands tend to grab the largest chunk of attention. When it comes to gropus that take a wide amount of sound and inspiration from the past, you've got the Arctic Monkeys (who reignited the craze for British garage punk from way back in the early aughts), Bloc Party (80s English post-punk), and the Editors (ever heard of Joy Division?), among others. The bands that make you dance range from the "nu-rave" Klaxons to the minimalist angularity of Foals, and even venturing over to the trance-core of Enter Shikari. Saturday night at the Paradise saw a meeting of these worlds, with the wistful White Lies in one corner and the dancefloor tunes of Friendly Fires.
White Lies may have recently hit number one on the U.K.'s charts, but stateside the band was merely a tepid opening act. Sure, there were the few diehard fans up front, pumping their fists in time with the increasingly-annoying strobe lights the quartet used as performance props. Yet these were just crutches. Much like those groups that have influenced White Lies (Joy Division, U2, any number of synth-based bands), White Lies' sound borrowed heavily from others and didn't have much of its own to share. The band played plenty of semi-catchy tunes to nod one's head to, but in the end, the lack of stage presence and bland sound made for a rather mediocre performance.
All this meant that Friendly Fires was the band to see on Saturday. And it was quite a sight. Opening with the Motown-funk-meets-post-punk ditty "Lovesick," Friendly Fires hit the stage with enough energy to fuel a Red Bull factory. Singer Ed Macfarlane paraded about the stage like a baby-faced Mick Jagger; his hip-shaking and body gyrations could barely be contained by the stage. Macfarlane threw his body about in a punk-like near-recklessness that would've left most individuals in traction. On stage left, Edd Gibson tore at his guitar and a large chunk of the Paradise, splaying his gangly frame about in a thoroughly deranged manner. Throughout it all, drummer Jack Savidge and multi-instrumentalist Rob Lee kept the steady beat that makes every Friendly Fires track a gem.
Although the band has only one album (last year's self-titled effort) under its belt, every song sounded like a single. What's more, Friendly Fires made the live performance worth every minute, stretching out entire tracks two-fold, and forcing the idle bodies in the back to dance. The band may be young and new to the American touring circuit, but Friendly Fires came through with the kind of performance that is usually reserved for at least a ten-year veteran act. Before Bostonist knew it, the show was over, and so was the veritable fight of dance vs. nostalgia bands. The winners: Friendly Fires, and those lucky enough to witness the band's too-short gig at the Paradise.
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