Having seen Mark Knopfler at this very venue a few years ago, I knew better than to expect an out-of-your-seat singalong affair. Mark Knopfler doesn’t do Greatest Hits tours. In fact, he has gone on record as saying he didn’t like all the fame and fortune associated with the material he’s most famous for, hits like Money For Nothing and Walk Of Life. So instead we sat back with a pint and prepared to watch in awe as ‘The Knopf’ and his band (numbering seven ridiculously talented multi-instrumentalists) gave a lesson in musical excellence. The fact that it was 4 songs into his “support act” set before I actually recognised a tune speaks volumes about just how good this bunch of balding, middle-aged musicians are. We were dumbstruck as they continued to switch between instruments (some of which we had never even seen before!) and played songs that can only be described as epic! Upon telling us that he was out of time, and that the “main man” would be waiting, they struck up the opening chords to Brothers In Arms, sending a collective chill down the spine of everyone in the Arena. To finish proceedings on a high he then plucked his way into So Far Away. And that was that, Mark Knopfler, brilliant as ever.

And so on to Bob Dylan. Brought on to stage by an over excitable announcer, sounding somewhat like he was introducing a heavyweight prize fighter, with a very brief account of Mr Dylan’s life, including a cheeky reference to him spending the majority of the 70’s and 80’s in a narcotic haze, and finishing with “The Poet Laureate of Rock ‘n’ Roll!!!” out onto the stage burst Bob Dylan and his band. Dressed in his trademark wide brimmed hat and bootlace tie he took up position behind the organ, shaking his hips and thrashing the keys in a fashion that defied his 70 years. That unmistakable rasping voice, even more growly than ever, barking his way through Leopard Skin Pill Box Hat, Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right and Things Have Changed. The up-tempo set kept even the most ancient of fans on their feet! The lady sat next to me must have been mid to late 60’s and she was there with her mother (true story)! Barely using his guitar, Dylan instead chose to captivate from behind the keys and occasionally standing centre stage with the microphone, intermittently blasting out incredible harmonica solos. What a performance! But then he’s probably had more practice than most! Running through more hits, like Tangled Up In Blue, Simple Twist Of Fate and a rousing version of Thunder On The Mountain, we were hooked. In what felt like 5 minutes, Bob Dylan and his (amazing) band had zipped through twelve songs and they were gone. The baying crowd, most way past their bedtime, whistled, clapped, whooped and cried out for more. And we weren’t disappointed. Like A Rolling Stone and All Along The Watchtower capped off an impressive display from a man well into his 71^st year.

And so I can cross off another name from the list of ageing rock stars I need to see before I die. Or, indeed, before they do.

Which brings us to Sufjan Stevens at The Apollo?

I am an avowed fan, sucked in by his second US States album, ‘Come on Feel the Illinoise’. I bought backwards from there and loved it all. The simple folk of Seven Swans to the complex arrangements and Trombone parping majesty of the aforementioned Illinoise. There is a lot of Banjo on those albums.

Then the announcement of a new album and, a new direction. New album, Age of Adz, has been well reviewed but I was put off enough not to commit to a purchase. As I approached the theatre I am ashamed to admit that a kernel of worry was tapping away at my insides. ‘He won’t play toooo much new stuff. Will he?’

First to say, when does a Gig become a show? Metronomy above a pub in Wakefield, Gig.

Stevens opens in near darkness, with Seven Swans. Tender in the verses it explodes in to life in the first Chorus when the other 10 band members come in. The lights blaze the stage to life and Stevens is revealed, Banjo in hand, he then unfurls a giant set of Swans Wings. Show!!

First foray into Age of Adz is track 2, Too Much. It is not a complete u turn stylistically. It is recognisably Stevens, Cacophonous arrangement and clever melody but tied together not by a folk framework but by playful industrial beats. Allied to a near 3D light/Laser show (don’t laugh), I now know that we are in safe hands.

Stevens seems to be aware that his new direction and these songs of ‘Love, Death, Apocalypse and Space’ could be hard to take, they are not. So after another dose of beats he insists on ‘Clearing the air with folk’ which he does every 2 or 3 songs and to stunning affect firstly with a rendering of REM’s The One I Love with just voice and Guitar.

The whole show is a confection of light, sound and an arresting video art show using schizophrenic US artist Royal Robertson as a launching pad. Bringing his static, paranoid, comic style canvases into living, breathing dancing life. This all comes to a true maelstrom of a climax with album closer, Impossible Soul. 25 minutes on record, it is slightly truncated here. To describe, imagine taking Acid, then being blindfolded. When you reach the point of ‘trip’, the blind fold is removed and the room has been entirely covered in a soup of acrylic paint. Every colour. All the while, the song plays. Mesmeric.

When the encore comes and we finally get what we want, we are no longer aware that we want it. This makes the balloon and confetti jet adorned closing run through Chicago a miraculous second high.

So definitely a show, and close to being the show of a lifetime.

Main support was Devendra Banhart and The Grogs, a band that I have been fortunate enough to see before. A very intense performer who I love to watch, but probably not quite the upbeat warm-up that this particular crowd were looking for!?! Before the Strokes took to the stage the crowd were treated to a very brief “April Fools” set by Elvis Costello, a great touch that made it more than just your average gig. Elvis quickly rips through three of his greatest hits including “Pump it Up” and “Radio, Radio.” This wouldn’t be the last time we’d see Elvis tonight though.

After what seems like an eternity, the lights go down, the crowd roar and we’re off. The Strokes begin with a very tight rendition of “Is This It” and you realise this is no fair-weather crowd, the atmosphere is electric and everybody knows every single word. The band scream through “Reptila”, “Undercover of Darkness”(the first single from the new album,) and a personal favourite of mine “Hard to Explain” before guitarist Nick Valensi effortlessly launches them into their biggest hit “Last Nite.”

The reaction to “Last Nite” was fantastic and this spurred Cassablancas into jumping into the crowd and belting out the next couple of tunes (“Juicebox” and “Someday”) from the pit! Any complaints people have voiced in the past about the guys being static on stage certainly wasn’t true this evening, they had brought there A-game. Julian’s voice really shone through “You’re so Right” (from the new album Angles) and “Under Control,” it was clear that the entire band were very proud to be showing off new material after such a long hiatus. A few more classics came out such as “You Only Live Once” and “New York City Cops” before Julian took a little time to tell us about new song “Taken for a Fool” which was originally done by Elvis Costello. Little did everyone know that the original “April Fools” was still going on and low and behold Mr. Costello popped out to sing the song with them… What a wonderful way to make people remember your gig eh!?! After “Taken for a Fool” Julian seemed slightly star-struck (or maybe hammered I’m not sure,) he was having trouble getting words out and finished the main set by spilling beer down himself and saying “Well I guess that’s why Johnny Cash always wore black.” Brilliant!

A lengthy encore followed as the band closed their set with the very mellow “Ask Me Anything”, “The Modern Age,” new song “Gratifaction,” “I Can’t Win” and “Take It Or Leave It”. The set-list for me was perfect, I couldn’t have asked for anything more (apart from maybe 12.51!?!) Are the Strokes back and fully fighting fit? ABSOLUTELY! I will still remember this when I’m 60, it was like hearing all of these amazing songs again for the first time… What else can I say? Other than roll on Leeds Fest so I can watch them again!

We are packed here into the back of the wonderful Castle Hotel on Oldham Street (if you’ve yet to patronise this fine boozer, go soon) and we are an expectant crowd. There is a buzz growing around this Nottingham quintet. I am here as a guest of Annie, A&R for Island records and she has spotted a further 3 of her competitors all vying for their signature.

They open with a Fleet Foxian wall of unaccompanied harmonies. All five band members dovetailing seamlessly and I’m hooked. Within the first two songs I am reminded of the aforementioned Fleet Foxes, Vampire Weekend, Mumford & Sons, The Beach Boys, Simon & Garfunkel amongst others. It would be easy for them to get lost in that sea of references but their skill and talent is to make it transcendently their own.

By the time they reach new single Jordan River I am totally sold. The crowd however are a little more respectful than even the band would like with a request for us to start dancing but by the time the Saxophone comes out for a rip through Glockenspiel song, we have no choice.

Keep your eyes peeled for Dog is Dead. They are very of the moment but have the tunes to make it out of the lower leagues.

We approached the Lowry Theatre in Salford with a mixture of regular pre gig excitement and a small dose of trepidation. My main concern was the venue. The Lowry is a wonderful venue, most of all acoustically but was it really fitting to an (admittedly) Gentle Rock and Roll Gig?

We were stirred first by the celestially, disembodied voice of none other than Mick Fleetwood who introduced the band with a phalanx of superlatives you felt his impersonators could never hope to live up to. Bit of a fucking Royal warrant! The Fish and I were initially disappointed as a clutch of mid to old men slipped on to stage and had made no attempt to visually ape their quarry. The drummer was barely 5’10”! A minor concern that was washed away by the Arrival of ‘Stevie Nicks’ and ‘Christine McVie’ .  Stevie Nicks garnered acclaim for her interpretation of Nicks as Gypsy Princess, all flouty gestures and swirling scarves but it was McVie who gnashed the biscuits, rocking a seventies mullet par excellence! Vocally they were both pitch perfect.

After a slow start with  perfunctory runs through Rhiannon and Everywhere, things warmed up a bit with Seven Wonders. Things really took off though with rumours opener Second Hand News. Energy was now starting to stir the mostly immobile audience.

The band announced an interval to be followed by a 50 min set of 60’s Peter green authored Blues Maccage. At this point the faceless men came into their own playing the likes of I Need Your Love So Bad and Oh Well with both brilliant Clarity (thanks Lowry acoustics) and Gusto.

The Ladies return for a mad dash through the biggest hits, Tusk and Go your own way included but it’s during the Screeching Guitar solo of The Chain that it all makes perfect sense. A piece of music so familiar as the title music to the BBC’s F1 coverage is recreated with laser like accuracy. Then I realise that I’m not really at a gig, it’s a breathing, singing, live greatest hits album and as that, it’s a joy. Mick, they did you proud.

Black Affair could accurately describe the content of Boys outside. Masons mental state is mined throughout  for lyrics such as, Am I Just A Mans ‘And there’s a darkness that persists through all of this, and though I try to keep a light on it exists’. Those looking for an instant Beta Band fix will be perhaps disappointed. The production is by Richard X, more usually associated with the likes of The Sugarbabes. It’s a sparse sound with clean pop beats and Masons bruised vocals pushed front and centre where as before they would be buried in The Beta Band’s pastoral, hip hop soup.

It’s a good, good album. Interesting if not always enjoyable as Mason lays himself bare. This is soul music of the darkest kind.

7/10

2 years later, MOJO staff in Leeds were astonished to find the Band’s tour manager on the phone asking if they could play a gig at the bar. They had a free night due to an illness and cancelled gig by Counting Crows whom they were supporting. Rather than sit idly they rushed north to Leeds to play a free show. All who attended will attest to the brilliance of that impromptu gig.

You’ll find much is the same on the new record. Lyrically as literate as ever thanks to Craig Finns erudite scribbling on life and love and raconteurism. The major changes in sound have been forced upon the album by the departure of keyboardist Franz Nicolay and rather than replace him they’ve left the spaces he used to fill free of sound. This lessons the e-streetness of their sound but the touchstones are still seventies rock. Drifting melodically toward Todd Rundgren and Cheap trick. It’s superior MOR really and worthy of your attention.

7/10

Well my hope is shifting to the imminent Exile on Main street deluxe release as this is a disappointment.

There are bloated or just plain flat  versions of classic album tracks, Red house and Fire for instance that offering nothing new or of note over their original forms. There are studio/rehearsal cuts of Creams Sunshine of your Love and Elmore James Bleedin’ Heart the latter being the more impressive but neither impressing overly.

The main attraction are four unheard tunes of which only the title track leaves a lasting impression and even then it’s a rather formless unfocused one.

So without Hendrix being able to shed his magnificent grace down upon these tunes you are left somewhat unsated by what’s been served up. The hope therefore for the Chateaux Nelcote sessions is that the Stones are (just)about around enough to nurse them to form.

4/10

After a three album clutch had generated  next big thing accolades an ‘Indie’ tag but modes sales the brothers retreated disbanded and made solo albums to clear the air.

The resultant double album is anything but Indie. It’s filled (20 tracks) with an engaging flight through the clever, clever side of British  psyche pop, prog and village green era kinks. The spirits of XTC, ELO, Wings and a sprinkling of Yes are evident throughout.

So yes, it’s a prog referencing double album but it’s never self indulgent. The proggy elements are ever shifting time signatures rather than un-needed 14 minute harp solos. It’s all tied down with a laser like pop sensibility that makes every track never less than interesting.

There is the odd failure bit with 20 tracks to play with it’s easier to forgive.

7/10

Kasabian have unfortunately always been lumped in with the ladish/madchester scene; a pigeon hole which has hindered their musical efforts being taken as seriously as deserved.

‘West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum’, the group’s most conceptual work to date, will hopefully put all doubts to rest that the band are anything other than a stone roses re-hash, and push them towards a more appropriate fanbase.

The album has a wide range of musical genres.  Songs such as ‘Swarfiga’ and the title track give evidence to a heavy degree of Pink Floydian influence, a welcome blend with Kasabian’s recognizable dark electronica tone.  Whereas ‘Thick As Thieves’  breaks new ground for the band, taking us to the other end of the musical spectrum in it’s folky psychadelic journey around some gypsy wonderland.

For fans of previous album stompers such as ‘Shoot the Runner’ and ‘Club Foot’, look no further than the chunky bass driven ‘Fast Fuse’. A musical monster with a pace and attitude that wouldn’t sit out of place onboard a chopper going into Nam’.

Then there’s the anthemic‘Fire’, the album’s first ‘real’ single, (‘Vlad the Impaler’ was available via download), which delivers the soul tearing choruses we know, love and have come to expect from Kasabian.

WRPLA binds all these elements together to create a Frankenstein. Each sound contributes to creating a very well produced album that should see Kasabian receiving the recognition they deserve. 

[ratings]