As rock's magnificently dedicated prophets of apocalypse, Godspeed You Black Emperor! could've been forgiven a little gloating in the wake of September 11. For the past few years, this fearless Montreal nine-piece have been making an instrumental music of sadness and protest, implicitly predicting conflict between the Multinational-dominated West and those who it has disenfranchised. Habitually described as the soundtrack to the world on fire, tonight's projections could've begun with one simple message as the crescendos begin: "WE TOLD YOU SO".
Instead, this extraordinary show is introduced by a flickering, scrawled "HOPE" and a gallop through some of Godspeed's more uplifting passages. For newcomers, the band (three guitars, two bassists, two drummers, a cello and a violin) construct hugely moving neo-classical pieces out of slow string-led progressions, field recordings of survivalists, preachers and ranters and massive rock climaxes. Initially, the emphasis is on the latter. Helped by Ocean's excellent sound system, it's plain Godspeed have never sounded more urgent and charged, so intense and in control of their music. The three guitarists sit at the front, rocking violently on their chairs, hacking out phrases like morse code distress signals, conducting micro-surgery on their strings.
Parts of this two and three-quarter hour performance are, then, almost unbearably beautiful; the high melodrama of romantic classical music translated and put into a provocative contemporary context. The genius of Godspeed, however, is to engender a political sensibility through their music and their imagery, to convey a message without resorting to crude tub-thumping.
Apart from a few raps and Neil Young's execrable 'Let's Roll', the musical fruits of September 11 haven't really been seen yet, but it's doubtful any will equal the 30 minute masterpiece unveiled tonight. It begins with a long passage of ghost noises, clank and, of all things, discordant penny whistle, and gradually comes into focus. After 20 minutes or so, Godspeed break into one of their finest overloading, heartrending melodies, the films running behind them start showing the New York skyline at night, and every time time the camera catches the Twin Towers, you can feel the audience quiver.
Where their detractors might've expected a simple indictment of American policies, Godspeed are far more humane and sophisticated. What this new music amounts to is an elegy for New York, one in which mourning transcends polemical positions. The enemies of globalism can grieve too, is the message - one heightened by a distorted recording of George W Bush at the close, reminding us that most just care for their own casualties.
Two more slogans, then. One of their best yet, plastered across the bass drum on one of the kits: "BURN ALL FLAGS". And one texted on a mobile phone by a man a couple of rows from the front: "COMPLETELY BLINDING," he writes. It was, it was.
