Kings of Leon
Brighton Centre
Thursday 6th December
Kings of Leon look angry. “You guys sing along,” shouts Caleb Followill. “Because the technicians are fucking terrible tonight.” They’re definitely annoyed. Having made the move to venues that resemble airport terminals, they now have to adjust to sound systems that have all the subtlety of a 747.
Despite the technical problems, the preachers’ sons show why they’re able to fill such vast venues. Opening with Slow Night, So Long, they play with carnal force and relentless tenacity. Black Thumbnail continues the coarse, spirited sound of a band in charge. The stage set is sparse; four large screens show images ranging from a creepy pole dancer to Caleb’s impossibly skinny legs. It feels aptly uncluttered, providing a platform for the music, not a distraction.
With so many arena-friendly anthems, the band can be selective with their setlist. However, they lean heavily on latest album ‘Because of the Times’, following the logic that this record catapulted them into indie’s top bracket, so should be flogged mercilessly to keep them there. McFearless showcases Nathan’s ferocious drumming, full of beguiling flair and mesmerising complexity. Fans is dainty and well-received, while On Call’s bellowed refrain reverberates passionately. But once they charge through Camaro’s clunky chug, preceding a droll Ragoo and a plodding Arizona, the new songs sound saturated.
Where are the band’s brash, grubby roots? Except a snappy shot of Holy Roller Novocaine, songs from debut album Youth and Young Manhood are conspicuous in their absence in the first hour. The unkempt rawness that made Kings of Leon fresh and invigorating is also missing. Milk is delivered with sincerity, but the set begins to lag.
Thankfully, a thunderous Molly’s Chambers revives proceedings, a bombardment of plundering masculinity. Suddenly, Spiral Staircase flashes past in a whirr of frenetic gusto, Trani adds an atmosphere of epic oddity and chaotic order is restored. The Followill family return to cajole the throngs with a smouldering rendition of ‘Knocked Up, before Four Kicks and Charmer close in an assault of blazing, primal rage.
Kings of Leon seem a more mature, less reckless outfit and poorer for it. Their newfound ability to produce hit singles (or the public’s newfound ability to realise they write hit singles) will ensure they have time to regain their edge. With such a powerful arsenal of songs, coupled with genuine instrumental ability, they’re still an incredible live prospect - even with poor sound, a soulless venue and a lop-sided setlist.
Brighton Centre
Thursday 6th December
Kings of Leon look angry. “You guys sing along,” shouts Caleb Followill. “Because the technicians are fucking terrible tonight.” They’re definitely annoyed. Having made the move to venues that resemble airport terminals, they now have to adjust to sound systems that have all the subtlety of a 747.
Despite the technical problems, the preachers’ sons show why they’re able to fill such vast venues. Opening with Slow Night, So Long, they play with carnal force and relentless tenacity. Black Thumbnail continues the coarse, spirited sound of a band in charge. The stage set is sparse; four large screens show images ranging from a creepy pole dancer to Caleb’s impossibly skinny legs. It feels aptly uncluttered, providing a platform for the music, not a distraction.
With so many arena-friendly anthems, the band can be selective with their setlist. However, they lean heavily on latest album ‘Because of the Times’, following the logic that this record catapulted them into indie’s top bracket, so should be flogged mercilessly to keep them there. McFearless showcases Nathan’s ferocious drumming, full of beguiling flair and mesmerising complexity. Fans is dainty and well-received, while On Call’s bellowed refrain reverberates passionately. But once they charge through Camaro’s clunky chug, preceding a droll Ragoo and a plodding Arizona, the new songs sound saturated.
Where are the band’s brash, grubby roots? Except a snappy shot of Holy Roller Novocaine, songs from debut album Youth and Young Manhood are conspicuous in their absence in the first hour. The unkempt rawness that made Kings of Leon fresh and invigorating is also missing. Milk is delivered with sincerity, but the set begins to lag.
Thankfully, a thunderous Molly’s Chambers revives proceedings, a bombardment of plundering masculinity. Suddenly, Spiral Staircase flashes past in a whirr of frenetic gusto, Trani adds an atmosphere of epic oddity and chaotic order is restored. The Followill family return to cajole the throngs with a smouldering rendition of ‘Knocked Up, before Four Kicks and Charmer close in an assault of blazing, primal rage.
Kings of Leon seem a more mature, less reckless outfit and poorer for it. Their newfound ability to produce hit singles (or the public’s newfound ability to realise they write hit singles) will ensure they have time to regain their edge. With such a powerful arsenal of songs, coupled with genuine instrumental ability, they’re still an incredible live prospect - even with poor sound, a soulless venue and a lop-sided setlist.
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