Saturday, July 28, 2007


to tomorrow's show.

The Winehouse showed up with her game, sober face on, and the Arctics ripped it up. And I'm in Iowa.


Hope the lads repeat this on Sunday. I am so proud of them.

So there we have it: the definitive lesson in how to rise to stadium-band level whilst totally retaining your cool and not turning in Bono or Johnny Borrell-style dickheads.

Make no mistake, tonight the Arctics were incredible.

Rather than drape the stage in huge set pieces, rely on fireworks and gimmicks, the lads played it like they were still playing the Barnsley Birdwell, standing no further than a few feet from each other and not bothering with a drum riser - a tight rock’n’roll unit blasting out hit after hit after hit. There was no sign of nerves and they looked comfortable in being up there – even after the technical hitch – but were more humble than cocky.

And then, of course, there’s the tunes.

If there was any doubt that ‘A Certain Romance’, ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and ‘I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor’ – once scratchy post-Libs garage rock tunes - could work in front of 50,000 people were blown out the water tonight.

No comments: