Gig played on 19/12/06

"F*ck! Yeah! Earls Court! Come on!!" Tom Meighan is beyond gripped as he repeats that phrase over and over again - sometimes with the words in a slightly different order - throughout Kasabian's barnstorming takeover of the vast expanse that is the 18,000-capacity Earls Court Arena. But he isn't the only one: like an exercise in perpetual motion, what Meighan gives out, the crowd soak up and dish back again to repeat ad nauseum.

This is the big one for Kasabian. Since Oasis claimed the venue as their own over two memorable November nights in 1995, Earls Court has become the high water mark for Brit rockers to reach as they simultaneously prove their own generational worth, while cocking a snook at more established acts of the Madonna and George Michael variety. The challenge is huge and the prize is greater but, with just two albums under their belt, do Kasabian have the balls?

Well, not only do they possess the necessary swagger and musical glitter, they also carry a burning desire to create a party not only for themselves but for the entire venue. The initial reaction is that maybe, just maybe, they've shot their bolt too soon as incendiary readings of "Shoot The Runner" and "Reason Is Treason" are dispatched with a breathless gusto that sees that front of the arena explode into a mass of writhing limbs, surfing bodies and spraying beer. But this isn't a reaction saved for the mosh-pit but an infectious atmosphere that spreads with incredible speed to all parts of the cavernous venue.

Kasabian's real skill is in blending classic rock riffs with the psychedelic grooves of dance music at its finest. Screw the so-called nu-rave scene, Kasabian have this thing nailed. "Club Foot" and "Processed Beats" - essentially terrace chants with beats - bestride the crowd before lifting them to new heights, or check "Empire" or "The Last Trip" to witness a band comprehensively in control of their environment.

There are occasional problems - Serge Pizzorno's acoustic "British Legion" forms the drinks cue, while "By My Side" is more "On My Side" - but these minor transgressions are forgotten in the face of the epic mariachi screech of "The Doberman" or the communal singalong of "L.S.F." which continues well into the night long after the last notes subside.

Kasabian? F*ckin' empire!

by Julian Marszalek