Review: Kele Okereke – The Flames Pt. 2


Artwork for Kele Okereke 's 2023 album The Flames Pt. 2




A Bloc Party shadow hangs over Kele Okereke’s latest solo outing.

With this his seventh album (and fifth in six years) Kele Okereke, the frontman and main songwriter of Bloc Party edges ahead of his parent band in terms of albums released.

Yet, somewhat ironically, The Flames Pt. 2 is the closest of the septet to the art-rock sounds of the indie darlings.

Kele Okereke’s first album (2010’s The Boxer) gave the impression that he was leaning into another aspect of his musical influences with electronic, cathartic house/pop while follow-up Trick went deeper into the club (it’s worth mentioning that Bloc Party met him in the middle, specifically Ratchet).

Yet while the songwriter has broadened his palette on recent albums for this project he consciously limited his soundscapes to inspire creativity. Namely, it all came from his electric guitar.

Even with that knowledge in mind The Flames Pt. 2 still has a few surprises, not least opener Never Have I Ever, the riff of which slices and snarls like a razor-sharp buzzsaw (note to Okereke – Matt Bellamy wants his sound back).

It also establishes the template of the looped riffs being the backbone of the song with supplementary instrumentation added and, in this case, it works well against his soft vocals. Possibly the most successful fusion of his rock background and electronic side-hustle to date.

The riff is stabbing and discordant on stand-out He Was Never The Same, almost math-rock (remember that?) along with a claustrophobic and ominous bassline, as Kele Okereke traverses the ‘extreme emotional shifts’ of its protagonist.

The commanding beats dominate the fiery Vandal (‘Use that rage in your stomach/let the anger flow through you’), something of an electro-beast even if Okereke does deploy that matter-of-fact vocal style he’s so comfortable with.



Likewise the dubby Her Darkest Hour which becomes fittingly unsettling in the second half as he tells of a woman who is, ‘all fur coat and no knickers’, or the sinister Acting On A Hunch which puts the bass front and centre (if Okereke has learned anything in his solo career, it’s the power of a potent bassline).

There is light to counterbalance the shade; the bouncing True Love Knows No Death has a bruising groove unique on the album as his vocals skate over the music, while Someone To Make Me Laugh is his comfort zone, all metronomic rhythm, mournful reflection yet hope for redemption (‘Can you mend a heart that you did not break?’). It’s familiar territory (I Still Remember, This Modern Love) but it’s the most perfect weapon in his arsenal, superbly deployed here.

Sadly, at 12 tracks, there is too much filler: No Risk No Reward is built around a repetition of the title line which apes two aspects of David Bowie’s career a little too successfully – the Nile Rodgers-alike outro following an intense, clogged main section evocative of 1. Outside. Elsewhere, I’m In Love With An Outline contains a high-pitched riff which irritates while the song ultimately goes nowhere.

The album is the yin to the yang of The Waves, Pt 1, which was more pensive and came at a time when Kele Okereke was (as he admits himself) lost at sea.

The Flames, Pt 2 represents Okereke finding himself and, using the metaphor of fire, both destroys the past and creates something new.

Somewhat hammering home that point, Kerosene (‘We’re only happy when we’re burning things down’) buzzes, simmers and smoulders intensely before the album closes with glimmering instrumental The Colour Of A Dying Flame, departing somberly amidst crystalline guitar loops.

Kudos for never making the same album twice (and The Flames Pt 2 sits well in his canon) but, while Okereke is no slouch on guitar himself, therein lies the issue.

While it’s impossible not to wish him well (and he certainly sounds revitalised), basing the songs around the guitar just reminds the listener of what is missing: Russell Lissack.


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