Album of the week: Bloc Party – 'Anatomy of a Brief Romance'

In this era of the micro-drama, something (micro-)novel from Bloc Party. Their seventh album is the true story of a rollercoaster, 11-month relationship and its aftermath, experienced by songwriter Kele Okereke in the wake of his split, after 10 years, from the father of his children. With production by legendary studio alchemist Trevor Horn (Grace Jones, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, ABC), Anatomy of a Brief Romance comprises 14 chronological songs – bulletins, even – of rebound and recklessness, rebuff and recrimination, love and pain.

Chapter 1: As the title – on the nose and prosaic – tells us, ‘22-01-22’ is when this relationship begins, their eyes meeting across a sweaty gym. Over glockenspiel-like pings in his heart, Okereke, crooning, swoons. “So it begins,” he says, leaning in at the end. Are we sitting… comfortably?

Chapter 2: “He says that I look like all he needs…” Everything, instantly, is ‘Coming on Strong’: driving guitar, throbbing synths, melodramatic chorus. Okereke, already, has lost himself, headless and heedlessly: “I was happy as a pig in… in… in… spite of myself…”

Chapter 3: “I’m thinking about scaling your fence and leaving a single red rose by your door,” he sings over electric-guitar jitters and fat, electronic bass. These are the throbs and pulses of a relationship in the phase of, as the title has it, ‘Love Bombs’ flying overhead.

Chapter 4: Their first summer of love is hymned in ‘Pigwig’, its giddy rush incarnated in a jittery indie-dance rush that recalls Bloc Party’s early days in the early years of the new millennium, as the angular wing of the British guitar revolution.

Chapter 5: We are smitten, we are intimate (“he says he likes the way I sigh when his hand brushes against mine”), we are drifting in a blissed-out reverie titled ‘Lagoon Blue’. As the romance crescendos, so does Okereke’s songwriting, with lines such as “so we head in to watch a Studio Ghibli film” landing just the right side of the confessional/cringe divide.

Chapter 6: Uh-oh. Something – or someone – is up, and it looks like it’s another attendee of the gym of the title, ‘Muscleworks’. Over watery synth-pop, Okereke, anguished, wants to know the identity of the boy watching them, presumably, over the weight machines. Meanwhile, “I’m starting to recognise the voice you use when you’re lying to me”. That means lying in his safari print sheets, keeping their hands to themselves. Hard pivot, then, with the images stronger than the tune.

Chapter 7: Might it be that his new love isn’t Superman but a mere ‘Clark Kent’? A sluggish, slumped moment and song.

Chapter 8: They made it to Christmas but not New Year, with Okereke’s beau, born on 1st January, seemingly unmoored by the ‘Worst Birthday Ever’, the relationship wrecked by his bully brother and homophobic “pig” dad, and Okereke “betrayed by your silence”. Rage makes for another creative peak in a ranting, railing, agit-rock song, vivid with brilliant images such as “the cadaverous queens rub their hands in glee / as the rumours go round SE16”.

Chapter 9: ‘Not Your Problem’ – Okereke spits rhymes and feathers. Hip hop funk that’s in a funk.

Chapter 10: Post-split post-punk: the recrimination sets in, meaning ‘Now We Can’t Be Friends’. Spiralling and splintered, Okereke falters, and so does the song-cycle momentum.

Chapter 11: Okereke hits rock-bottom, drifting around ‘Rotherhithe’, the rage dissolving into anguish and confusion – but luckily, musically, coalescing in a beautifully sung lament.

Chapter 12: ‘Stories’. Stalking your ex- in the digital age means hovering over their Instagram Stories. And scribing bitter, basic, musical DMs.

Chapter 13: ‘Moving On’ and moving up: as Okereke’s spirits start to soar, so does the songwriting in a pulsing, racing, U2-like anthem.

Chapter 14: ‘Eulogy’. Does what it says on the title. Lovely, reflective, Joy Division on a sunny(ish) day.

Reviewer’s epilogue: five stars for the concept and storytelling, three for the musical encapsulation, giving us a median four stars. Looking forward to the stage adaptation Bloc Party should definitely consider, where these alt-musical-style songs would work better.