While most bands reform for the cash, you suspect cult Canadians Godspeed You! Black Emperor returned from their seven-year hiatus in the hope of soundtracking the death throes of capitalism.
When their comeback album, ‘Allelujah! Don’t Bend! Ascend!, recently won the Polaris Prize, Canada’s version of the Mercury, it prompted an online rant from Godspeed that was worthy of Private Eye’s Dave Spart.
Having refused to attend, they objected to “a gala during a time of austerity”, branded its sponsorship by a car manufacturer as “****ing insane” when the ice caps are melting, and donated the prize money to buy prisoners musical instruments.
If the overthrow of the global financial system hasn’t quite come about since their revival, at least it means Godspeed can keep channelling their indignation into the astringent, enveloping instrumental music that had fans in a post-rock reverie last night.
The eight band members — plus their film projectionist — began in a stealthy fashion, tuning up and drawing the audience into Hope Drone with Sophie Trudeau’s keening violin, which cut through the dirge.
David Bryant fiddled with electronic effects on the stage floor but spent most of the show in a chair with his back to the crowd. Fellow guitarists Mike Moya and shaggy-haired Efrim Menuck were also seated as they wrestled with their instruments during the 20-minute epic Mladic, named after the Bosnian Serb army chief accused of war crimes.
Godspeed created serene sonic landscapes too, though, particularly on Moya, with its mournful double bass and melodic undertow.
The centrepiece was the 35-minute Behemoth, powered by slamming beats from Aidan Girt — one of a pair of drummers — and a blizzard of guitars. There were cheers for the familiar, plangent notes of The Sad Mafioso, and the images of protesters on the giant screen were a reminder of Godspeed’s politics. The band said not one word, sensibly allowing their majestic music to do all the work.
