The Riverstage organisers have finally learned to open the gates at a sensible time in order to avoid the queue bottlenecks that have continually plagued the venue in the past. Once inside, we survey the scene: stormclouds are visible in the distance, but will the weather be kind to Brisbane’s concert attendees on the eve of a certain British band’s momentous Queensland debut?

It seems that foul weather has sidestepped Brisbane’s sore and sorry suburbs this weekend: clear skies greet Bloc Party’s arrival onstage, and an overwhelming sense of unity sweeps across the capacity crowd. Their 2008 album Intimacy is immediately well-represented: punchy cut One Month Off opens the set before being quickly followed by Halo. The delicate percussion of Signs serves as a tender mid-set moment, but it’s clear from the outset that the band are here to make up for lost time.

Matt Tong’s relentless drumbeats have long been one of the most attractive elements of the Bloc Party sound, and the band’s metronome is in fine form throughout a set that leans heavily on their 2005 debut Silent Alarm; after all, this is the band’s first headlining show in Queensland, for which Kele Okereke apologises midway through the set: “Sorry it’s taken us so long to get to you, Brisbane!”

The thunderous chorus riff of Song For Clay remains one of the band’s strongest moments, and when it leads directly into Banquet without a moment’s hesitation, the crowd responds with an enormous roar. Following the guitar freak-out during Positive Tension’s bridge (“so fucking useless!”), Okereke’s closing words tease the crowd: “play it cool”. The searing guitar tone of that track and Helicopter number among the likes of Franz Ferdinand’s Take Me Out as the most memorable rock sounds to emerge from the United Kingdom this decade. It’s this guitar sound, combined with Tong’s dancey drumbeats and Okereke’s distinctive vocal style that have contributed to the band’s success across the globe. Furthermore, Okereke’s verbose lyricism is successful in portraying a young person trying to make sense of interpersonal relationships and his place in the world.

Maybe I’m reading a little too far into this, but songs like Waiting For The 7.18 – “Let me hear your singing voice, Brisbane!” – just exude youth. It’s marvellous, and difficult to qualify. Why am I standing here with a huge grin on my face? What is it about their sound that I find so goddamn entertaining? Why are there 9,000 of us here with huge grins on our faces? Yet, these are the questions that aren’t often asked, and maybe they shouldn’t be. Bloc Party do what they do extremely well, and their sound has proven scalable from domestic clubs to international arenas within three short years. Their honest, humble image is well-calculated, and as musicians, their appeal shows no sign of diminishing. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the band’s enormous popularity is how they’ve maintained indie credibility while balancing on the precipice of mainstream awareness. Genius, really.

Jazzy Intimacy single Mercury finds Okereke stepping out from behind the guitar to partake in an energetic performance and some live vocal looping, before The Prayer closes the set proper. Bassist Gordon Moakes joins Tong behind a second kit during first encore Sunday, before upbeat Silent Alarm cut Price Of Gasoline delights older fans. I find the 2007 between-album single Flux unlistenable, but it’s far more delightful in the live space. Or maybe I’m just hypnotised by the big fat lasers they’ve borrowed from Tool. The aforementioned Helicopter arouses movement en masse, though Russell Lissack’s string bends in the chorus sound oddly off-key. As the song winds down, I’m one of hundreds moving toward the exit – in my case, due to another planned musical appointment across town.

But, wait: another encore? Having already left the venue, I perch atop a rock after being disallowed re-entry. The warring drumbeat of Ares is impressive even from several hundred metres away, while This Modern Love serves as an effective, if slightly underwhelming closer. As laserbeams scan the Riverstage’s tree line and Brisbane’s youth give a collective, satisfied sigh, Okereke simply states: “have a safe journey home”.

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