Narc. Magazine Online
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Steve Spithray witnesses a joyous performance from the Mancunian veterans
It would be unfair if James were to be remembered solely for that awful Sit Down song because anyone who has seen them in the last fifteen years will know there is nary a thing so joyous as the Manchester veterans live.
Tonight’s show might be a warm-up for some bigger summer venues, so not quite the full take-me-to-church experience, but the cult indie nonet are right at home in the Town Hall’s grandiose setting and at fifty quid a pop for tickets punters would really hope they would be. But I digress, with only a small handful of fan favourites dropped (no Waltzing Along) for a couple of test runs of newer tracks and rarities, such as the opening Busted, there are not many bands that can throw away Say Something three songs in or a ceiling scraping Tomorrow before the halfway mark.
And it’s not just the big hits that (continually) impress. We get another rarity, Heads, a song about the current political situation in America (singer Tim Booth lived there with his American wife until the last couple of years). Ever the showman, and at ease with his crowd by the time they do play Sit Down, the band are really playing to the crowd. Yes, it’s sermonic. Yes, it gets the loudest singalong and, yes, it’s cheesy as hell. Getting Away With It (All Messed Up) is another huge anthem, and then there was still time for a quick encore of (a swiftly aborted) Attention, a rousing Come Home and final fan favourite Laid. Here ends the gospel according to James.
