Despite having to wake up early for work the next morning, I braved the cold of a Sydney spring night in my pointy elf shoes and tight shiny pants, tip toeing my way to the Hordern Pavilion for Bloc Party’s second night in town. Just hours earlier, I was actually thinking of having an early night and was almost going to smack some cheap Thai grub before a phonecall held my wallet. I forgot there was the bloody concert and my phone’s calendar did too as well. Good thing I have friends.

So instead of cheap Thai takeaway, it was Din Tai Fung with an obligatory Tsingtao before we cabbed it over. Another mis-sight on my part, Van She were the bloody opening act. Unfortunately, my mates decided to while the time away in the restrooms, so I had to hear Kelly, their last track of the night, from a distance, bobbing my head and feeling quite happy but also sad that I missed them. I actually have one wobbly and completely blue picture of the band leaving the stage that I would spare you the sight of.

But I came to hear a black man sing. And I got what I wanted plus more. Kele “Okechukwu” is the designated name of the night for the BP (not the petrol company, yo) frontman, seeing as my mate was completely inept at remembering one man’s name but absolutely top drawer with African footballers. For the record, I corrected him and told him rightfully, “It’s fuckin’ Okoronkwo mate!”. So there.

That’s Meeester Okereke to you.

Right so Mr. Olisadebe was certainly quite brilliant, talking up the crowd in pure civility and staid eloquence before he burst into whelping gasps of frenetic song. To his right was floppy haired Russell Lissack, who probably defines the term electric guitar. To his left, Gordon Moakes threw down some dirty bass and behind Mr. Olofinyana was Matthew Chee Hung Tong AKA “Ah Tiong” to us.

Russell Lissack

Gordon Moakes

“Ah Tiong”

Now the thing about Bloc Party that makes them a great act to watch and rock out to, is the fact that they’re like fuckin’ drum’n'bass rock’n'roll. If you could watch Matt Tong in action, you’d know exactly what I mean, because the man is a freak. He’s like the antithesis to Meg White if you will. He also took his kit off like 2 tracks in, sweating like everything. No surprise since he’s probably got the most labor intensive job of the foursome. He also happens to embody the very hopes of dreams of a bajillion Asian indie kids who dream of being in a massive band. He’s like the Bruce Lee of indie rock’n'roll. Years from now, Bloc Party will be no more but the story of Matt Tong will live forever.

He’s no sidekick playing Kato to the others though. If anything, their music depends on his drumming as the heart and soul of the sound. Intense, pulsating and ever-changing, it’s this sense of edginess that makes them special.

I offer you some youtube videos of tracks where I didn’t go completely bonkers, screaming things about moving furniture and shit.

First up, we have Hunting For Witches.

Now its Waiting For The 7:18, which actually almost really coincides with my commute to work sometimes, combined with the fact that I take the North Shore Line, almost the Northern Line. OK I’m pushing it but still…

Then we have Price of Gas.

And finally, The Prayer, in which Mr. Tong does a coupla press ups in prep for his routine 5 secs later.