Gig played on 06/09/05

What is it that makes a band? What is the magic that vaults the line between acclaimed and genius, loved and globe destroying? Why, for example, Coldplay and not Elbow? Because from where we're rocking, as "Station Approach" roars to a close, drums raining down, alongside hymnal synths and Guy Garvey's bellowing plea to "be everything to me tonight", this seems like a fairly relevant subject to muse over.

Well, Elbow have the rock'n'roll credentials ready to serve at the door like FBI ID. Debut album takes ten years, band troop on like soldiers, label drops them…the folklore is there. So, with new album "Leaders Of The Free World" now out and again demonstrating what graceful, epic power and dense beauty these five men possess, why is it that this tour will culminate in a show at Brixton and not some godforsaken aircraft hanger?

Clearly, it's not a dilemma that worries Elbow's devout fanbase, who are squeezed into Koko's liquid red surroundings to hear much of this material live for the first time. Opening with the bombastic, fantastic boom of "Station Approach" and into the rolling dirge of "Fallen Angel", it's immediately obvious that not only are these songs far too big for this venue but that we're also fortunate to witness them from ten yards away.

With the gently shattering "Great Expectations", "Fugitive Motel" and the blissfully bereft "Scattered Black And Whites", it's also clear that this music has a character bleeding from the slings and arrows of life's emotional jungle. Equally, with the urgent, battering "Leaders Of The Free World" and an elevating "Newborn", which, admittedly, lacks the latent savagery of old, this is a band with a big heart and the big tunes to match. Much like Coldplay.

To cut to the chase, making the jump from ludicrous speed to actual hyperspace comes down to such base, elemental concerns as fashion, class and looks. Tonight, the bear-like Garvey admits Elbow are just "five chunky blokes from the north of England". Indeed, Bury hardly has the same juicy, intellectual cache as four studious university dudes, fronted by an oddly charismatic and, by all accounts, handsome lank of buzzing inspiration. Put simply, Elbow's reality is ugly and the edges remain blunt and true.

As important, of course, is sound and Elbow are adept at fleshing their music with 'prog' embellishments and cryptic complexities, stringing songs out hypnotically, wilfully and wonderfully - see "Anyday Now", "Newborn" and a massive "Forget Myself". It also seems unlikely that Chris Martin would admit to not having "seen my mum in weeks", as Garvey does on "Station Approach", or lead his massed people through a "Littlest Hobo" singalong. The chances of Martin referring to the more radical elements of the Muslim faith as "c***s" also seems fairly improbable.

So it is that Elbow won't shortly roll back into town for a five-day residency as Wembley Arena's house band. It would perhaps be impolite not to suggest that they, like us, would rather it remained exactly this way.

by Ben Gilbert