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The moon was full and a dense fog was rolling in over the West Midlands for the coldest night of the year so far. It would have been the perfect setting on the frost encrusted streets outside for a great Twilight themed battle between Vampires and Wolves.
It was only fitting then that namesakes Vampire Weekend delivered an lethal blow to Wolverhampton in the bleak cold, bringing the heat and sounds of the summer to overthrow the Civic Hall.
Metal legends W.A.S.P were playing in the room next door and it was patent that support act Ratatat failed to impress the crowd immediately.
But the electronic duo soon got into their stride and the punters warmed to the New York trailblazers with every passing moment. It was easy to understand the quick change of heart with the visceral electric guitars and Daft Punk esque noise booming from the speakers.
It was a slight anticlimax as the set finished extremely quickly, without the rigmarole you would usually associate with a big finish, the stage was instantly deserted.
The people were left wandering around with their heads in the clouds for a period, that is until Vampire Weekend hit the stage and it soon turned into the Black Country’s biggest party this year.
The four piece from New York are still touring to promote their sophomore album, Contra and the lads opened with Holiday which set the scene perfectly for a dynamite show.
Beer was airborne all of a sudden, girls were clambering onto boys’ shoulders, instantly becoming targets for the deviant projectile throwers scoping out these sitting ducks with relish.
The girls didn’t seem to care about the wet, perhaps the unbridled fun in the room was the only thing on their minds.
The crowd soon shed their inhibitions and danced madness-style, baggy trousers wafting, dad dancing from wall to wall, and the summer was tangible again.
Preppy Ezra Koenig hit the high notes perfectly yelping and squealing throughout the set with his impressive vocal range, informed by some high class Buddy Holly hiccups no doubt.
Even the people upstairs in the usually subdued seated area were dancing and singing along with glee. No one could have implored this lot to rattle their jewellery any more vigorously than they were, not even John Lennon himself, their bodies were in constant motion.
There was a string of hits here as the sweat condensed on the ceiling, M79 struck up and everyone was going spare from beginning to end and this level of hysteria was maintained as they launched into Bryn.
Cousins was the next song, and this really provoked something in the crowd who reached fever pitch in a nanosecond, belting out the chorus in their mock American accents like a Harlem gospel choir.
The band took it down a notch and let everybody have a breather with a gorgeous version of Taxi Cab which saw Chris on double bass, and then before anyone had a chance to let the adrenaline levels drop too far, they picked it straight back up again with Run and A-Punk.
One (Blake’s Got a New Face) encouraged a mass sing along and the band were in their element, fanning the flames, rolling their eyes, taunting the crowd with little teasing pauses before starting the next bar of the song, it was clear to see they were enjoying their work.
Oxford Comma was the last song before the encore and this crowd pleaser sent everyone into new levels of delightful abandon, with it’s lovely use of dialect, rousing jingles and punchy drum lines it was a winner on the night.
Burgeoning out with its upbeat, colourful guitars born deep in the American consciousness, it was reminiscent of Chuck Berry tearing into Johnny B. Goode.
The quartet went missing for a second but re-emerged for a perfect encore which included Horchata, Mansard Roof and Walcott. The set was seamless, the sound quality was incredible, and the lighting was mesmerising- see this band while you can.