There’s a lot of unfamiliar material on show tonight, all of which suggests that album number two will pick up the pace of Carry The Meek, but of course it’s the likes of ‘St. Christopher’, ‘Words’ and an awesome ‘Click, Click, Boom!’ that set the place alight. Wrapping up with a version of ‘Never Talk’ that saw D’Arcy lay down his guitar and join Ollie on drums, before the band stride off stage and the crowd finish the song themselves.

As ever, the band’s songs are matched by their live performance, with Podge picking his parents out on the balcony and asking the audience to say hello, and demanding that Niamh Farrell watch her language. Her response – a tirade of abuse to make Malcolm Tucker blush. It’s great to have them back…

Photography by Kieran Frost

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Things have changed. Muse are now one of the world’s apex rock acts. A guaranteed good night out in an industry that doesn’t do guarantees. Their cerebral arrangements charm classical buffs and dadrockers, yet they have the bite and bile to speak with Generation X.

Examining the stage before kick off, it’s not immediately clear what Muse have in store. Three skyscrapers stand before us. In front are two mic stands. No kit, no keyboards, no guitar racks to be seen. Then suddenly, everything is alive and the triplet towers are depicting images of silhouetted men traipsing up a stairwell before finally tumbling down. The huge pillars open up revealing a band member in each and the slinky glam stomp of ‘Uprising’, a highlight from new album The Resistance, is throbbing out. For introductions, it doesn’t get more thrilling than that.

And then it does. ‘New Born’’s mischievous intro melody brings the O2 properly to the boil. Bellamy is on his knees right up the front, writhing in those few fizzy seconds before that wonderous riff is peeled off. Webs of green lasers hop about in time with Chris Wolstenholme’s elastic bassline. The towers flash white every second bar of the verse. State no longer feels so bad about never having seen Pink Floyd live.

That, by the way, was three tracks into the set, and it never seemed to let up. Even the gentle picking of ‘Unintended’ was like an event in itself. Showmanship is not something that can really be taught, but Bellamy could probably have a go if the tunes dry up. Unlikely as this is to happen, the diminutive guitar and piano prodigy is a natural performer, possessed by some rock ‘n’ roll demon. He prowled around the stage, half punk brat, half rock god, hamming it up during the guitar hero moments – a barnstorming ‘Plug In Baby’ comes to mind – and attending to the audience on the far left and right of the stage. It’s enough to put a grin on any red-blooded person’s face.

Marc Carolan, Muse’s chief live sound engineer, once told me that the band reinvest huge sums of money into their live shows, ensuring that the very best equipment is sought out. It’s hard to see how they can improve from here, but then again, this was never a trio to underestimate when it came to breaking new ground. A strong contender for gig of the year.

Photo by Julie Bienvenu.

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It’s unlikely that the Academy, or any Irish venue for that matter, has hosted anything like Mew before. The set was an education in technical virtuosity and bombastic song arrangements that somehow make perfect sense to pop lovers. Songs were often played in pairs as they appear on their LP tracklistings, bleeding into one another, and completing a particular movement. You can’t imagine ‘Circuitry Of The Wolf’, the opening track from 2005’s …And The Glass-Handed Kites, without follower ‘Chinaberry Tree’. The dizzying ‘Am I Wry’, from breakthrough LP Frengers seems incomplete without the steady epilogue of ‘156’. What was amazing is that this is not a live limitation, but a rare opportunity to show how special these pieces really are in the musical landscape.

But something didn’t sit quite right tonight. It wasn’t tripped out singer Jonas Bjerre’s regrettable likeness to Johnny Borrell. The visuals were perfectly themed with the dark fairytales being played, and star drummer Silas Utke Graae and guitar whiz Bo Madsen were solid cornerstones to Bjerre’s airy-fairy stage manner. The problem was The Academy – alright for a sweaty night of rock ‘n’ roll, but somehow unsuitable for such ambition and vision. Mew share a genetic link with acts like Sigur Ros or The Flaming Lips, and while fans may have been thrilled to be up close, the spectacle and grandeur demanded a more expansive setting.

Photos by Kieran Frost.

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Opening with ‘Pass The Hatchet I Think I’m Goodkind’ the Tripod in Dublin is assaulted with a noise odyssey … and it feels good. Ira Kaplan throws his guitar around like poker-hot rain stick; manipulating and torturing it as his wife Georgia Hubley and band mate James McNew support with regimental percussion. It’s a transfixing spectacle lasting close to fifteen minutes.

The follow-up falls slightly flat. ‘Avalon or Someone Very Similar’ is a tremendous tune from this year’s classic, Popular Songs, however Kaplan’s vocal is shaky and after the sonic attack of the epic intro the move to alternative pop takes getting used to. The mood lifts with ‘Periodically Triple or Double’. It’s a beat-deficient, bluesy, motown, 60’s pop number that somehow manages to make reference to Judge Judy. Kaplan replaces guitar with some whacked out organ and there’s an amusing dramatic pause before each shuffling rhythmic breakdown.

Looking at this New Jersey trio perform is invigorating. They are so completely raw and unpolished and play with the energy and enthusiasm of any teen garage band; which they could pass for if you look at them through squinted eyes. Perhaps what keeps them so fresh is there constant change of styles both in their recordings and their performances. There doesn’t seem to be a set list. Instead they dip into genres and past albums on whims.

James McNew (everyone’s favourite member) pulls one out of I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One. His lead vocal on ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ is deeply melodic, soft and soulful. The band go lo-fi with fragile and wistful tunes from And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out. ‘Tear Are In Your Eyes’ in stunning. Georgia rather nervously takes centre stage for ‘The Last Days of Disco’. Show stopping tunes but the air-con rumbled on and sound at the back was reportedly poor.

An airing of the falsetto-led, joyfully upbeat ‘Mr Tough’ finds James going all Bee Gees while Ira takes to piano. It’s a comedic number, something Yo La Tengo are good at. They don’t converse with their audience too much but when they do its always with great mirth. Ira jokes about being safe behind the barrier and wryly rebukes one punters cry, “Come On Everybody”.

There’s a heavy version of ‘Big Sky’ from their debut Ride The Tiger and Electr-O-Pura gets a look in with ‘Tom Courtenay’.

Ira raises the musical question “Is it true?” with ‘If It’s True’. Something of a squabble between the couple, it is dysfunctional pop with choppy jazz drums and funky keyboards. They share vocals and Hubley is like Nico to Kaplan’s Lou. Things remain pop with the cosy, leftfield anthem, ‘Autimn Sweater’. As brilliant as these tunes are, at a live show it’s the epic (yes, there’s that word again), hypnotic, freak-outs that bring them up a level. ‘More Stars Than There Are in Heaven’ starts with a chugging guitar line and accumulates into something spell-binding and warped. The build up to ‘I Heard You Looking’ is awe-inspiring. They have a natural bending rhythm; the tempo and force of which they play changes seamlessly with a synergy that’s mesmerising.

During the encore they bow to a request for their version of The Beach Boys’ ‘Little Honda’. Ira starts on guitar, he continues to play even as he hangs the guitar on Gil the soundguy’s neck before passing on duties as he joins his wife on drums. It’s all very uplifting and the grins and laughing continue during ‘You Can Have It All’ as the crowd retort with “Take It Baby”. Hilarity ensued.

Hyped about? Maybe not. Tonight Yo La Tengo performed 20 odd songs spanning over 20 odd years show-casing impeccable song-writing with depth of character and un-waning skill and we couldn’t get enough of it. Appearing in the pages of The FADER magazine is probably not a priority for these guys.

Photos by Loreana Rushe.

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The stage strewn with Korgs, hopefully a precursor to a highly anticipated evening of evocative electronics, Dublin trio the Funeral Suits takes to the stage. The end result is thoroughly mystifying; it is a set that is sprinkled with a few thoroughly likeable indie pop songs (“Black Lemonade” has an unstoppably infectious bassline that could easily lend itself to a Klaxons track) but is hampered by an arsenal of tracks that, whilst certainly passable, are ultimately lacklustre and featureless, more filler than fodder, and a live performance that reads as a declaration of total indifference and lethargy and makes for a less than persuasive spectacle. Nevertheless, by the end of their set the Funeral Suits have managed to tempt a respectable crowd from the back of the sound booth to the front of the stage.

This respectable crowd has inflated inimitably, hitting maximum capacity by the time Passion Pit make their appearance. Under fuchsia lights and a glimmering disco ball, the band swiftly dispel any lingering air of apathy, delivering a performance as heartening and enthusiastic as the feverish reactions of the shrieking audience, who, throughout the duration of the performance, sing and clap along forcefully where needed, throw pashminas on stage and besiege an overwhelmingly charming Angelakos with chants of “get your tits out”.

Encircled by a mix of modern synthesizers and vintage keyboards, the show opens with Angelakos sitting at an old Wurlitzer electronic piano serenading the admiring crowd with a handful of more subdued songs from the debut album Manners, including the delightfully warming ‘Eyes As Candles’. Yet just as quickly as it appeared, the Wurlitzer has disappeared and been replaced with a microphone stand that is wielded like a sceptre, conducting the crowd, although they need no encouragement, to a symphony of up-tempo electronic delights. The evolution from the sparse musical arrangements of Chunk of Change to the fuller, more embellished sounds on Manners is one that translates well for Passion Pit live. From the soaring merry-go-round music of ‘Make Light’ to the fragrant jingles and handclaps of “Got Your Number”, every song is so richly textured and flawlessly executed that despite the fact that many of the songs sound very similar (which can arguably be attributed to Angelakos’s impressive if not limited falsetto range), there is a wealth of sonic subtleties that can be picked out, from children’s choirs to handbells, to make each song utterly enthralling.

The set further benefits from a surfeit of vigour and zeal from all the members of the band, who share an endearing onstage chemistry, exchanging smiles, exuding an unrelenting boyish enthusiasm and proving that limited stage space is in no way a justification of remaining static, as the keyboardist climbs past lights and amps to hang off the railings of the balcony, and Angelakos twists, twirls and wriggles, throwing himself onto the ground, leaping off the drum kit before eventually finding his way to the crowd. By the end of an euphoric encore, it’s harder to tell which party is fizzing sherbet-like with energy more; Passion Pit or their adoring audience.

Photos by Sean Conroy.

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This year, Canadian Thanksgiving fell on October 12th. Exactly a week later, as if it hadn’t given thanks enough, Canada unleashed upon Europe two of its most celebrated punk bands, Billy Talent and Cancer Bats, for an intensive six-week mini-tour. As the opening act, and the only one without an official release to their name (although their debut LP, Thank You, is available for free download online), UK band Canterbury were received with cautious optimism by the 70-or-so percent of the audience that couldn’t legally get into any of the venue’s four bars. Caution soon gave way to quiet enthusiasm, but it was hard to escape the sense that while Canterbury are able to write songs in the style of Fall Out Boy, Cobra Starship or even their hosts, Billy Talent, they rarely exhibit a consistent, original sound of their own.

It is probably a little unfair to hold them to such standards at such an early stage in their career, but the gap separating Canterbury and the band that followed them, Cancer Bats, was positively cavernous. Led by charismatic singer Liam Cormier, Cancer Bats owned every inch of the stage with a sound far bigger and more powerful than their simple guitar, bass and drums set-up would suggest. Sandwiched between two melodic pop-punk groups, there was always the danger that Cancer Bats’ brutal hardcore assault would turn the audience off completely, but the opposite came to pass. They had attracted a surprisingly large segment of the crowd on their own (generally men in their early 20s who looked like they spent a lot of time at the gym), and they won over plenty more besides.

Influenced in equal parts by crossover thrash merchants like Pantera and more traditional hardcore, much of Cancer Bats’ heaviness emanated from the bass guitar of Jaye Schwarzer (and his seemingly indestructible neck, such is the force with which he headbanged) and drummer Mike Peters. Guitarist Scott Midleton occasionally appeared to be out of sync with his bandmates, as some of his more flashy passages sounded inappropriate and misplaced, although some of this could be put down to dodgy mixing. The band’s face, though, is frontman Liam Cormier, who one feels would perform the songs with just as much verve and enthusiasm were his band mates to put down their instruments and leave the stage – if he’d even noticed they’d gone. He spent much of the band’s set thrusting his crotch in people’s faces for no apparent reason and, allied with the impossibly skinny jeans he wore around his knees, he could just as easily passed for a WWF (old school) wrestler, pacing up and down the stage in an attempt to call out Tugboat or the Texas Tornado for a good old-fashioned grudge match.

Cancer Bats finished with one of the first outings of a new song, ‘Darkness,’ from their forthcoming third album, but from that point on the night was reserved for Billy Talent. The headline act’s evening began on something of a bum note: ‘The Dead Can’t Testify’ is one of the better songs on the Toronto band’s fourth (third as Billy Talent) album Billy Talent III, but, as opening tracks go, it’s a little too slow to really excite the crowd, and relies too much upon lead singer Benjamin Kowalewicz’s clean vocals when he seems to need a couple of songs to fully warm up. Nevertheless, the band soon found their stride: drummer Aaron Solowoniuk was flawless on the giant podium that had been created for him to the rear of the stage, while guitarist/co-vocalist Ian D’Sa lent his considerable vocal weight to highlights like ‘Surrender’ and ‘Devil In A Midnight Mass.’

The make-up of the set was split fairly evenly between tracks from Billy Talent III and the two previous self-titled albums. Having been on tour more-or-less constantly since June, the band have had the opportunity to work in to the set more than half of the new album, but the biggest pop was still reserved for more instantly recognisable tracks like ‘Line & Sinker’ and ‘Fallen Leaves.’ For its part, the newer material is a little less aggressive and fast-paced than its predecessors, with more pronounced classic and progressive rock tendencies, tendencies that were first explored on 2006’s Billy Talent II, which mined territory very similar to that which System Of A Down had mined with the previous year’s Mezmerize/Hypnotize doublet.

For a band of their size, the scale of Billy Talent’s stage set-up was impressively ambitious. To close, they performed perennial favourite ‘Red Flag’ to the backdrop of a massive red curtain in what must surely rank among the clumsiest attempts at symbolism since… ever. The stage was littered with white lights, which were occasionally over-used to the collective detriment of the audience’s eyes. Cleverly, the rig was used to give, quite literally, moments in the spotlight to each member of the band, which is hopefully democratic enough a process to prevent Billy Talent going the way of Girls Aloud any time in the near future.

For his part, Kowalewicz doesn’t exactly present himself as the egomaniacal Axl Rose-type. In fact, he initially came across as a reluctant frontman: at first apprehensive and ever-so-slightly shy, he soon warmed to the audience and began to throw in the odd story between songs, including one anecdote involving Guinness that didn’t seem to have a plotline but nonetheless earned a few bars of “Olé, Olé, Olé” from the crowd. We may not have Thanksgiving in this country, but we do have a way of disarming foreigners with Spanish football chants. It’s an odd custom, but it’s ours.

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But it wasn’t just the music that was making the fans tick. Neil’s stage presence was truly enigmatic, flinging himself around, with his elbow sawing out staccato riffs on is high-slung guitar. The rhythmic opening chords of ‘Living Is A Problem Because Everything Dies’ were a case in point. It was refreshing to watch a band not only exerting themselves beyond belief, but also enjoying themselves as much as everyone else.

The band’s set was made up of tracks from their successful 2007 album Puzzles and the forthcoming Only Revolutions. They rarely play tracks from their first three albums live, perhaps because they have only in recent years found that trademark ‘Biffy Clyro sound’. In comparison to previous live shows, the trio opted to cut down on aesthetics (like fancy looking amps) in favour of the regular rock ‘n’ roll approach of using themselves and the music to engage the crowd. It couldn’t have worked better. One of the most captivating parts of the show was when Neil took to the stage alone with his acoustic guitar to play ‘Machines’. Cue a compact sea of lighters in the air and a mass sing-along.

The great thing about this show was its diversity. Heavy or mellow, it never sounded like you had heard the same song twice, evidence of a band with ideas and creativity in abundance. And despite the absence of hugely popular single ‘Folding Stars’, the trio ended the night with the anthemic ‘Mountains’, another suitably ginormous highlight from the impending fifth LP . All that’s left now is to embrace this new record and strive for the coming of the great Scots’ return to these climes.

Photos by Sara Devine.

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It seems little has changed. The show in Vicar St came with rules and instructions from the doormen. No bar during the show. No photography, with or without flash. Phones were on silent for fear of Nokia’s Cicada interrupting the set, which would result in an immediate end to the gig.

However, when the Warm Inventions took to the stage in MF DOOM style Halloween masks the festive cheer instantly dispersed any audience nervousness.

The stage was dimly lit in blue and purple with an outline of Hope in the centre wearing a white tu-tu style skirt. Opening with Nick Drakes’ ‘Courtin’ Blues’ her voice fills the room like a velvety fog; husky, dense and saccharine and the effect is instantly calming and atmospheric.

Earlier this year Hope Sandoval released Through The Devil Softly, her second album with The Warm Inventions. Along with her partner Colm Ó Cíosóig (My Bloody Valentine), the pair created a lush album that has all the aesthetics of her previous works but possibly not as strong on melody as 2001’s Bavarian Fruit Bread. In saying that, when performed live the band inject hooks into the material that didn’t jump out on the record. The percussion is soft and sophisticated. The guitar is reverb-heavy with tinges of country blues. There’s a shimmering interplay between guitar and vocals on ‘Blanchard’. Hope flits from harmonica to xylophone lifting the music by adding some inticrate details.

There’s very little interaction with the audience, except to announce Colm’s birthday followed by a brief “Happy Birthday” sing-along. The backdrop has visuals of ballerinas, eerie Vegas scenes and old tour footage. ‘There’s a Willow’ finds Sandoval in a reflective mood while on ‘Blue Bird’ she wonders “Is there a devil in your eyes?”.

From Bavarian Fruit Bread, ‘Charlotte’ is a delicate ballad delivered with the familiar breathy vocal but it’s ‘Suzanne’ that is greeted with a warmest reception of the night. The entire set was soothing, hazy and captivating but also sedative (in a good way). So when as the band closed the set with ‘For The Rest of Your Life’, it was thrilling to find the them spin off in a dark, chaotic psychedlic jam.

Perhaps there’s an element of artistic personalilty syndrome about Hope Sandoval, the rumours and reports are not unfounded; she has been witnessed storming off stage on several occasions. Perhaps its for all the right reasons; to create a stage that projects her voice and her music as she would like it to be experienced. And when it works, it works beautifully.

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Since then, the band have grown comfortably into their late 2009 incarnation. Only this time the hype around them was started by early appearances on US late night talk shows and cemented by the release of their third album Veckatimest, a gorgeous capacious record which Shane Culloty noted “would seem to be the masterpiece Grizzly Bear have been threatening to make, and as fine an album as you’ll hear this year” in his five for five State review earlier this year.

The atmosphere in Vicar Street was set by support act Annie Clark aka St Vincent who gave a 30 minute solo show with a backing track and her omnipresent sinewy guitar style. Clark’s impeccably soft voice was the defining factor of her set, giving a Sunday night audience reason to indulge in a relaxed and engaging opener.

When the four members of Grizzly Bear do arrive on stage, it’s a similarly relaxed ambience. Kicking off with Veckatimest’s opening track ‘Southern Point’ is a smart move. It’s a song that is complex and dizzying on record, and live, the tune’s dynamics can really be felt, from the quietly strummed guitar parts to the raucous loud crescendos. Grizzly Bear’s big strength lies in their musicianship. They may not move around much but when the three voices of Chris Taylor, Ed Droste and Daniel Rossen rise in concordance, it has a magical, calming effect. The already present atmospherics on record are given an extra spatial lift as the reverb-drenched timbre of Ed Droste combines with the other two distinct voices (and sometimes three when the drummer gets involved).

Things just get more captivating from there. Bassist Taylor plays some flute, Droste takes up an autoharp, Rossen occupies the organ when required and drummer Chris Bear quietly drives everything along magnificently.

The set is an equal mix of Yellow House and Veckatimest material taking in ‘Lullaby’, ‘Knife’, ‘Little Brother’ (drawing more from the “Electric” version found on the Friend EP), ‘Colorado’, ‘On a Neck On A Spit’ from the former and ‘Cheerleader’, ‘Ready Able’, ‘I Live with You’ amongst others from the latter.

The jam jar lights hung around the stage add to the dreamland folk vibe and the band’s crystal clear vocals during ‘Foreground’ could lure migatory creatures from their sleepy hollows.

The band have always been grateful to Foggy Notions for their support and the promoters receive a heartfelt shoutout before the band’s true sunny pop moment ‘Two Weeks’. It’s a joy to hear live, being as it is, one of the songs of the year.

The band’s last few songs include a magnificent rendition of Veckatimest highlight, ‘While You Wait For The Others’ – a Rossen-led song which has much of the audience singing the “Oh Oh” hook back at the stage and a final pre-curfew cover of The Crystals/Phil Spector ‘He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)’ brings the set to shimmering and rapturously received end.

Grizzly Bear is what happens when skilled musicians gel together to sculpt beautiful sounds filled with detail. Case in point: during a stunning version of ‘Deep Blue Sea’ (from Friend EP and the recent Dark Was The Night compilation), the always busy bassist Chris Taylor picks up an old radio to add subtle static to the mix. They barely need the sound emanating from it as this band crackle and sparkle mighty fine on their own. An inspiring gig.

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Watching Hypnotic Brass Ensemble perform isn’t a religious experience, but it sure feels like it –awakening a primal energy in the audience that has laid dormant for a long time. While watching the hot, sweaty, writhing mass of bodies flail about the dance floor in Cork’s Pavilion it was amazing to reflect on the power of nine young men wielding trumpets, trombones, sousaphone and baritone horn (and one kick-ass drummer). The Chicagoans, eight of whom are sons of Phil Cohran from the Sun Ra Arkestra, are proof that creating music that speaks to people isn’t about making things as complicated as possible – it’s about stripping things down to their bare bones and then using those bones to bang out an almighty, life-affirming racket.

Hypnotic Brass Ensemble have come a long way from their days performing at El stops on Chicago’s inner city streets, selling homemade CD-Rs for a few dollars. Born with the sort of talent most of us could only dream of, they started off bringing music to the people, putting a smile on the faces of commuters, and now they’re working with musicians such as Damon Albarn, Erykah Badu and Mos Def. As proof of their leap in popularity, the band play not one but two gigs on the same night at the Pavilion, which is fast making its name as one of the premiere venues in the country.

When they bound onstage – telling us, of course, that Cork is their favourite city to play in – the sweat glistening on the young men’s brows is the only sign that this is their second show of the night. They’re introduced by Cork stalwart, DJ Stevie G, who promises us that this second gig is the one for the “true fans”, and that the band has saved the best for us. Over the next hour or so, the young men certainly prove that to be true, blasting through favourites such as ‘Balicky Bon’, ‘War’, and ‘Ayo’ with the crowd eating out of the palm of their hands. It’s remarkable that they have the energy for two gigs in the same night, because they channel every ounce they have into their live performance – there’s not a hint of weariness here. When they bound about the stage encouraging us to shout “bang bang bang, skeet skeet skeet” or ask who got the party started, it’s hard not to wonder if the audience will tire out before the band members.

After two encores, it’s time for Hypnotic Brass Ensemble – half undressed and dripping with sweat – to leave the stage, to the disappointment of the crowd and the band. No one wants them to finish up, and they don’t seem to want to leave either. It has been an exhilarating gig and one where we had been, well, hypnotised.

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Sharon and her accordion always seem to be content to take the back seat for an evening of virtuosos to shine. This went as far as encouraging her guitarist Jack Maher to perform his own Gary Moore style blues track ‘Don’t Give Up On Me’. Shannon herself has moved on musically since her early trad days: nowadays her set features less accordion tunes and more pop. This is perhaps shown best in her progress from ‘Blackbird’ to ‘Galway Girl’. This move away from traditional pub-style playing was obvious even from her own entrance, that had all the razzmatazz of Whitney Houston rather than a folk musician – smoke machines and a band build up.

The eight piece Big Band, including a saxophone, added an extra depth and greater dynamic to the evening’s solid tune selection. However, the band were strangely laid out (in order to fill the large Concert Hall stage?), with Sharon at the centre, surrounded by a distant semi circle, whilst she was joined occasionally in the middle by her guests. She started the evening with the more traditional songs from the current album. ‘Howya Horse’ and ‘Hillybilly Lily and Buffalo Benji’ were exciting instrumentals and seemed to please the traditionalists. The older Waltz ‘Aggie’ followed by ‘Sally May Melia’ proved popular and the audience seemed to be settling in for the night.

With welcoming her first guest, Carol Keogh, the sound moved to across the Atlantic. With her Reba Macintyre style and country slant Keogh complimented the evening’s sound, complete with an updated version of Nick Drake’s ‘Northern Sky’ which had more of a barroom jazz sound than the original. This was followed by the dynamic Jerry Fish, a more coherent Tom Waits, adding depth and warmth with his vocal tracks. Crucially he also knew how to work an elderly crowd getting them up on their feet and hand in hand to sing along with ‘True Friends’.

The very American roots sound from the new album (helped in no small part by The Cartoon Thieves contributions) transcended the whole evening from the support act to Sharon’s saloon style dress. Crucially it was audible in the sound on stage – right down to the duelling banjo (and Spanish Guitar) track part way through the set. But the ‘let’s all have a barn dance hoe down’ attitude actually made the strange Concert Hall setting work well for this and ensured that the evening never lost the feeling of a jocular living room session. This was confirmed at the end of the main set with the lively sing-along ‘Blackbird’ (albeit Na na na na na’s), proving jigs, reels and waltz’s were still part of Shannon’s musical base but with a difference, and interspersed with vocal tracks which broke up the set. All this built to an exciting crescendo in the form of two great tracks: the upbeat future single ‘Mama Lou’ and, amazingly, the sound technician appearing from nowhere for a cameo and note perfect version of ‘Galway Girl’ to close the show. Perhaps not surprisingly for the whole evening the smile never left Sharon’s face, nor should it have.

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Tracks like ‘I Need’ were met with enthusiastic applause whilst ‘Sixteen Again’ and of course ‘Ever Fallen in Love’ gave way to mass euphoria from the crowd. Steve Diggle was in full Pete Townshend mode – arm swinging like the windmill. Whilst Shelley’s distinctive and unusual voice was all powerful and still magnetic, only letting up occasionally to allow Diggle lead vocal. However Diggle unashamedly took the centre stage for a bit of self promotion– throwing out bundles of flyers for his own new album. The crowd itself were a healthy mix of young and old who came together for the evening, with the old school showing the youngsters how to really mosh and pogo.

The anthem kings gave us power packed intense non stop driving punk. A great, unpretentious set gave way to an understated exit at the end of the show, but the crowd wanted and knew they would get more. Sure enough the band, and the audience, only really came into full flourish for the blistering 30 minute encore packed with the majority of the more recognisable singles. ‘Orgasm Addict’ started the melee, followed by ‘What Do I Get’ . The eventual climax was the classic ‘Everybody’s Happy Now’ and Diggle’s vocal ‘Harmony in my Head’, which proved a fitting end to a great night retro pop punk legends.

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With no support act lined up and the stage clothed in darkness, all elements were in place for the crowd to nervously anticipate the show to come and as each band member took their place to kick things off with ‘Monday Morning’ the nervous tension peaked. Once the surreal sensation of seeing the Mac in the flesh wore off, it became clear that there was something of a sing-off taking place before us, with FM’s legendary rivalries surfacing. For a significant handful of songs, Nicks and Buckingham split vocal duties, with both guilty of hamming things up in an effort to own the show. As the tassled and shawled Stevie Nicks tottered around the stage in semi-slow motion in 4 inch heels, she almost managed to rekindle her 70s cool yet, despite the earlier murmurs of the crowd ahead of her entrance. Buckingham however was the undisputed show stealer. With his guitar-wielding swagger and powerful solos, the guitarist’s onstage presence, particularly on moments like ‘Big Love’, made him dominate the performance. Meanwhile, Stevie’s vocals remain top-notch (‘Landslide’ affirmed this), so distinctive that even when she occasionally dropped the ball, it only endeared her further.

Let’s not forget the presence of Mick Fleetwood either, whose steady efforts belting away on the drums underpinned the entire performance. Although he looked physically sidelined by the two most famous band members, half of the group’s namesake was certainly not forgotten, as the huge cheer he garnered at the end rightfully displayed. Things were hammed up further with the sermon-like intervals where Nicks and Buckingham digressed on the band’s often troubled history, attempting to add to the symbolism of the event by harking back to their well-versed dramas. Admittedly it was a tactic that worked, reminding us of the rarity of the occasion by reiterating the group’s stature and legendary status, regardless of how wholly theatrical it felt.

When the clash of egos died down (or became less apparent), things instead centred on the music as the setlist hit all the expected high points and was a solid blend of well-known numbers. From the thundering outro of ‘The Chain’ to the note-perfect rendition of ‘Dreams’ through to the bluesy ‘Gold Dust Woman’, musically the band managed to pull it all together as though they’ve been doing this untroubled without a break since 1977. For a reunion tour there was no sense of the band phoning in their performance and, occasional cheese-factors aside, there was a very real sense that, despite Mick Fleetwood’s call of “Until next time”, this could be the last we see of Fleetwood Mac and that made it an occasion to savour. Tonight’s show lacked that certain something to make it a truly unforgettable night, (perhaps due to the obvious impersonal nature of a mammoth venue like the O2) but on the whole it was an impeccable performance hard to fault and one you couldn’t help but feel privileged to witness.

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Were he not so honest, one might not have noticed that the Sheffield crooner wasn’t operating at 100 per cent. Warm and often hilarious in his foul-mouthed banter with the crowd, there’s little wrong with his voice when he lets fly on his classy collection of mid-tempo love songs. Sure, throughout the set, there are moments where his voice becomes nasal and flat, but for the most part there’s little to criticise Hawley on as far as his velvet-soft baritone is concerned.

It’s his set-list however, which may have left some disgruntled. Almost exclusively culled from his recent sixth album, True Love’s Gutter, there’s no room here for any of the ‘greatest hits’. So that’s no ‘Baby You’re My Light’, ‘Valentine’, ‘The Ocean’ or ‘Born Under A Bad Sign’. It’s disappointing, but such is Hawley’s great canon of work – and very fine recent material –that it’s one we can forgive.

Early on though, there’s very much an air of ‘getting through this’ apparent in workman like renditions of ‘Lady Solitude’ and ‘Hotel Room’ – understandable given the circumstances. At times too, Hawley’s superb – if stiff – backing band can seem too reverential to the material. While we get a sumptuous run-through of ‘For Your Lover, Give Some Time’ and a very apt airing of ‘Soldier On’, there’s a spark and thunder missing from this, a very polished performance. Given the all-seated environment it’s really only Hawley’s irreverent between song musings that puncture an air, which might describe as stuffy.

It’s when the tempo rises though, that Hawley and his band begin to flex their muscle and inject a more adventurous pace to proceedings. ‘Run For Me’ is a Hawley gem and one of his lesser-known tracks. Tonight, it threatens to take-off as its gorgeous melody swirls around the Olympia late on in the set. A rousing encore of ‘Coles Corner’ then set things up to end on a real high but Hawley seems to fluff the moment by calling time after this, a one-song encore. Ill health may be to blame but it leaves many, not only wanting more, but also perhaps feeling short-changed.

These are small qualms however when all is considered. A Richard Hawley gig is always something to savour. He may have become a changed performer as his popularity has risen – his rough edges having been smoothed over – but he nonetheless always delivers two consistents – a gorgeously textured vocal wrapped around some sumptuously crafted songs. Tonight is no different, and we look forward to his return in full health.

Photos: kDamo

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