Saturday 10/11/07 Beirut @ The Roundhouse, Camden

The recent surge of Neo-Balkan chic is certainly gathering; bands like Gogol Bordello, A Hawk and a Hacksaw, and to an extent even the likes of Devendra Banhart have pulled their Eastern-tinged stylings into the mainstream, faster than you can say "Jagshemash". It seems to be the en-vogue (it’s European for ‘in fashion’) thing, and perhaps it’s only a matter of time before somebody coins the terms ‘Nu-ropean’. So I’m going to do it before anyone gets their name on it; Nu-ropean.

And so Beirut fall into the category, their debut album, ‘Gulag Orkestar’ an epic prog-folk opus that highlighted 21-year-old Zach Condon as a precocious talent – one whose music sounds wise beyond his years. Fast forward one year, Beirut are touring second-LP, ‘The Flying Club Cup’, and Camden’s Roundhouse is rammed to the rafters. Kicking off with a set that is filled, for the first half, with tracks from Orkestar, it would seem that the young troubadour Condon and his band are in a healthy position, whereby they have enough material to pack out a venue of this size and belt out crowd favourites – the applause afforded to the violins of the opening bars of ‘Scenic World’, or the quaint Nick Drake-esque picking of ‘Sunday Smile’ spring to mind – but not so much that they are weighed down by the obligation to churn out crowd-pleasers.

Condon himself seems like an affable-enough chap; shy but by no means lacking in confidence, the odd mumbled, "thanks a lot", making up the bulk of his banter with the audience. Despite perhaps lacking the bravado of some frontmen, he nonetheless cuts a bold figure on stage, seeming every inch the leader of the seven-piece band – string, brass and rhythm sections – with his mournful yet uplifting vocals, as the bands instruments routinely exchange hands, from violin to ukulele and trumpet to accordion.

Whilst the first half of the set is given to covering the earlier material, it’s the new tracks from 'The Flying Club Cup' that get their second UK-unveiling of the week (they played an intimate show in the Rough Trade store a few days previous. The sound was shoddy, it was a bit rubbish). Whilst the first LP has very definite Balkan gypsy-folk influences, the new material veers along a winding path of baroque, polka and waltzing rhythms, giving to grandiose crescendos and cacophonies of accordion and plaintive trumpet lines; it’s perhaps the range of musical influences evident in their performance that give them such an air of wisdom. It’s as if they have travelled the beaten track in search of new sounds, and have returned with, well, a masterpiece of an album, and a truly spellbinding performance. Like Lord of the Rings without the ring.

At one point in the gig, I overhear someone that looks slightly like a character out of Hollyoaks say, "Oy Lee, get us a pint of San Miguel, yeah?" which led me to thinking: why such far-reaching popularity? Here, we have your typical gig-crawling indie kids, college-lecturer-looking types, hippies, townies, a general mish-mash of ‘types’. It’s perhaps the fact that Beirut take so many influences that sound at once familiar yet original, archaic, yet refreshingly new, and all with simple and emotive rhythms and melodies. This crowd cannot help but be moved, at least physically, by an accordion-led waltz or moved, emotionally, a grand and cinematic violin led sustain. This much is evident by the deafening reception given to Beirut’s encore, which begins with the Condon’s doleful yodelling in the Mariachi epic 'In the Mausoleum', and ends not with their cover of the raucous Eastern stomp, 'Siki, Siki Baba', but with a grateful reception reserved only for the truly worthy. Verdict: Beirut or Bei-square (I thank you).