Interpol – The Roundhouse, London 07/02/14

There’s another, approximately ten seconds into tonight’s show. Vocalist Paul Banks, once upon a time music’s most dour and notoriously prickly frontman, is walking towards the microphone under full glare of the lights, waving giddily to the crowd. He’s even smiling. New York’s most dapper gents have always existed from behind a painfully cool wall of detachment. Tonight they’re as immaculately styled as ever, yet something’s different. The barriers are down. Interpol are quite simply thrilled to be here.

That much is clear as they tear into opener “Say Hello to the Angels” from their taut, striking debut Turn On the Bright Lights. Albeit one of their buoyant numbers, it’s been a while since we saw Interpol play with this kind of vigour and pace. The devoted hordes crammed into a sold-out Camden Roundhouse have stuck with them through years of diminishing returns: a tepid Our Love to Admire, their plainly horrible 2010 self-titled release and the departure of allegedly bored bassist Carlos D. Fans have been waiting a long time for a performance like this and for once the band seem eager to please.

Interpol are here to promote their fifth album, last year’s El Pintor – their best since 2004’s Antics - and as such the atmosphere is celebratory. The setlist is expertly crafted, new and old material hanging wonderfully together. Although the new tracks can’t quite capture the strobe-lit, claustrophobic murk of their halcyon days, El Pintor has given the threesome that shot in the arm they so desperately needed. Guitarist Daniel Kessler is feather-light as he dances around the stage, his glissando guitar chimes ringing and trembling. A glowering “My Blue Supreme” and sonorous “Anywhere” confidently lead the charge for the new tracks with Banks’ baritone in particularly fine form on the latter. Later, a light touch from drummer Sam Fogarino together with layers of synth turn “My Desire” into pure disco. When the band do reach for the classics we’re sharply reminded of just how many brilliant moments Interpol have in their arsenal. “Evil”’s sleek, euphoric chorus bleeds into the slow burn of “Hands Away”. “Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down” causes a surprising amount of pogoing from groups of men with their arms around each other and a darkly electrified “Slow Hands” sounds ferocious and fresh despite being a decade old.

When tremulous guitar heralds the beginning of closer “Untitled”, quite simply the most perfect four minutes of tension and melancholy Interpol have committed to tape, behind them the visuals show circles breaking apart and reforming. As those last spine-tingling notes fade away one perfect circle remains. The message is clear. Interpol have come around again, full cirlce, to the top of their game and most importantly, they seem to be in love with being Interpol again.