Arcade Fire

The procession of those eight thousand people who, come the next day, would be nothing more than a number in the local papers, looked like a myriad of blood vessels threading their way up the slopes of the mountain sacred to the people of Barcelona. Halfway up the hill they call Montjuïc here – the mountain of the Jews – the Palau Sant Jordi was built back in 1992, a sports arena that, for this night-time event, resembled one giant human clot, gleaming like a beetle's shell lit up by Olympic floodlights.

Once inside, a huge black curtain blocks the view of the arena floor sinking beneath the crowd's feet. A moment to descend the stairs leading down to the pit: the belly of the venue already warm and brimming with anticipation. Arcade Fire walk on to the sound of sixteen thousand clapping hands and a roar that literally makes the ground shake. The first song of the set asks the proverbial question: "Ready To Start"? There's no doubt about it, and a sea of bodies starts jumping. The ritual has begun. A first step back in time: "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" starts up, taken from the Canadian band's hugely successful debut, that "Funeral" that still stirs the hearts of many. And among the crowd there are plenty belonging to that breed. Tears flow freely. The biblical "No Cars Go" follows, unleashing everyone's energy: contact has been successfully established.

Our band quickly understands what kind of crowd they'll be dealing with over the next two hours, all while towering over them looms a pharaonic screen: a postcard image of a concreted-over avenue in American suburbia — one some visionary thought to turn into just that, a postcard — is lit up by a multicoloured dawn. At the centre of the set design, on a smaller screen, restless images overlap, postcards themselves, of a landscape with an abandoned soul. Suddenly a gust of wind stirs technicolor palm trees: Haiti. The emotional impact of Régine Chassagne's trembling voice, merging with the crowd's collective singing, is practically off the Richter scale. "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" follows, perhaps the most eighties track on the latest record. And the crowd dances in front of a band that has turned fluorescent. After all, as Win Butler said introducing the song, "Spaniards are known for being great dancers." They didn't prove him wrong — not even the myriad fans up in the Palau's upper tiers.

Then comes "Modern Man", continuing the exploration of the latest album, followed by the lysergic "Rococo", the cinematic title track "The Suburbs" and its coda "The Suburbs (continued)", all warmly received — but it's still the debut album that makes hearts race when "Crown Of Love" arrives.

The second chapter, drawn from "Neon Bible", is "Intervention". For the occasion, a colossal organ appears on the screen, and the tone turns epic, like a spiritual drive-in. "We Used To Wait" flows by, the only song in which the frontman doesn't play an instrument, making it the perfect moment for him to step down into the crowd, who welcome him like a postmodern messiah. The time has come to bring out the family's dark jewels: "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" merges into "Rebellion (Lies)", in a sequence where the crowd holds nothing back, still unaware of the final jolt awaiting them with "Month Of May" and "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)", the last song, during which the video backdrop fills with blue sparks gently falling, as if to remind us of a magic fire that has gone out. But beneath the ashes, there's still a flame, the one that fuels the Arcade Fire engine: the encore arrives with "Keep The Car Running", the third and final track drawn from the second album. And it's with "Wake Up" that it's time to wake from the dream: brothers, go in peace... but with the feeling of having witnessed something timeless, an epiphany that, however you try to tell it, no one will believe you.

Slowly, the procession of the now dazed and disoriented crowd of thousands takes on its usual, orderly shape again, forming into multiple lines that grow progressively more composed, bringing everyone back to the routine from which we'd been saved, if only for one night.

Ride the wave of great music

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