Interpol at Alexandra Palace, review: Band celebrate 15 years since release of Turn On The Bright Lights

The New York band bring their classic album back to London

Paul Banks of Interpol onstage (Brian Rasic/REX )

In the fertile breeding ground of early Noughties New York, Interpol set themselves apart from the CBGB revivalists, bratty art-punkers and dance-rock fusionists with their 2002 debut album Turn on the Bright Lights.

Shaped in the shadow of 9/11, the four-piece’s songs were as immaculate as their tailored suits: charred, precise post-punk odes to loss, regret and feeling disconnected in an evolving city. Intimate and anxious, Interpol’s atmospheric despondency helped usher in an era of seriousness in indie-rock.

That the album failed to chart in either the UK or America didn’t stop its slow-burn reveal as one of the century’s great records. In the event, Turn on the Bright Lights has weathered as well as anything from the era, perhaps why Interpol have been moved to celebrate its 15th anniversary with a series of gigs revisiting the album in full.

Much critical thinking at the time tended to focus on exactly who Interpol sounded like (insert generic Joy Division comparison here) but such casual dismissiveness did them a great disservice: you only have to take a look towards Alexandra Palace’s gaping stage tonight and feel Daniel Kessler’s angular guitar parts, or Sam Fogarino’s purposeful drum patterns, to realise that Interpol had far more panache than mere copyists.

Even without the melodic, imaginative playing of original bassist Carlos D, who left in 2010, it is striking to note, 15 years on, how inimitable Interpol could be: Kessler somehow manages to make his guitar sound both mournful and anthemic, no easy task, on glorious centrepiece “NYC”.

Taking to the stage bathed in dark red light, dressed, as ever, like they are inconveniently on their way to Magistrates’ Court, the evocative riff of “Untitled” starts an honourable recreating of the album’s 11 tracks (plus middling B-side “Specialist”).

Taut, powerful and direct, Interpol recapture their early fire: the pulsating “PDA” and “Obstacle 1” are delivered with the urgency of a band with everything to prove, not one filling a cavernous Ally Pally who hang on every word, riff, and, on occasion, movement (during a frantic “Say Hello the Angels”, Kessler theatrically conducts to the crowd, looking almost like he’s having fun). Paul Banks’s sonorous vocals reach every corner of the hall, affecting even when he’s making little sense – 15 years on and “the subway she is a porno” jars as much as ever.

A variable extended encore highlights the problems Interpol have had since. Increasingly backed into a monochrome corner, stone cold classics “Evil” and “Slow Hands”, from 2004’s Antics, shine even brighter against diminished later material such as the nondescript “Lights” and so-so mid-tempo new song “Real Life”, which suffer from a lack of vitality and, frankly, worthy songwriting. Then again, better songs than those would pale against the dark majesty of Interpol’s unimpeachable debut.