A question often, and quite reasonably, asked of the hipper-than-thou is the one that goes:“Why do you start to turn on a band you previously loved the moment they become popular?” Of course, there are many possible answers to this but, quality deterioration aside, only one really works for me: “Association with their new bandwagon audience.” Interpol previously played Dublin in the more modest surroundings of the Village in 2003 and the intervening 19 months has seen them gain a startlingly large new support – sadly, not all are cognoscenti. Last time around, I stood amongst the coolly well-informed and impressed; tonight, I’m jostled by a smattering of fashion-conscious, highly-hormonal young women and an embarrassment of volatile young men constructed almost entirely from elbows, wisps of facial bum fluff and molten pus, who appear to think that onions are an acceptable form of underarm deodorant. However hideous this may all seem with hindsight, it’s actually a mere trifle; and there’s no question of me turning against Interpol.

The thing is, I’m actually glad there’s a clamour to see a band such as this. Despite their increased popularity, Interpol's presentation style hasn't compromised an inch. There are still no gimmicks: the band don’t do an awful lot, there are no pyrotechnics, no gushing speeches or mortifying guest appearances. But they’re like the rock Kraftwerk, possessed of an otherworldly detachment, an innate, unfathomable and singular cool which ensures that anyone imbecile enough to form a tribute band will be laughed at and never paid. As the opener, Next Exit, begins on the blood-red stage, the audience is held in a thrall that lasts until the bright lights are turned back on. Consisting largely of Antics material, their main set is heart-stoppingly good; Slow Hands and Evil are greeted with the teeny-bop approval but Not Even Jail and Public Pervert sound simply superb, while older songs like Leif Eriksson and PDA remain stunning. Saving NYC, Obstacle 1 and Roland for encores is how cool people show off; I need hardly tell you they were immense to behold. Interpol are an elevated life-form that make you take notice of them by some phantasmagorical means which involves taking a sharp left before Showbiz. They are frighteningly brilliant tonight; and it’ll be at least the day after tomorrow before I’ll remember why I ever listen to anyone else.

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