Yahoo! Music Review

Gig played on 20/12/08

To slightly alter a Stereophonics album title (and ignoring the clawing "Mr Writer / Why don't you tell it like it really is?" refrain drifting in from mid-way through the set), when dealing with a retrospective you've really got to look back. Last month saw the tardy arrival of the best of "A Decade In the Sun" - in actuality it's 11 years since their debut album dropped and nearly 12 since their first single - which tonight is played more or less in its entirety with a generous weighting towards their formative era (or The Cable Years as those fond of the exiled tousle-haired drummer might see it). It's the kind of night that begs contrasts between what they were and what they are.

Pronounced differences are apparent before the curtain has even dropped. "Welcome, Ladies aaaand Gentlemen!" booms the boxing style announcer, "21 Top 20 singles...five consecutive Number One albums...nine miiiiillion albums sold worldwide...." While you can't play an arena this cavernous without at least a touch of arrogance in tow, such superciliousness sits at real odds with the humble storytelling of "Word Gets Around" that launched them, back when Kelly Jones was the Alex Turner of 1997, carving unfussy poetic paeans from his immediate locality.

It is a pleasure to hear some of those old tracks cranked out - "More Life In A Tramps Vest", "A Thousand Trees", "Local Boy In The Photograph" - but compared to the slick modern output they're performed alongside they sound flailing, scrappy and uncared for. Conversely, "Superman" and "Devil" might be hollower, mechanical exercises but they do possess the components and discipline required to reverberate around this massive space with some degree of efficiency.

In between the two extremes there are some successes. The succinct melody and engaging narrative of "Traffic" is incapable of being belittled and "Stopped To Fill My Car Up", just a string-section and Kelly's coarse enunciations before the band stirs it up to emulate the heart-tugging of Oasis' "The Masterplan", is moving and elaborate though they do overplay the wrought climax. "Maybe Tomorrow" attempts the same but can't help but feel like a tissues ad in comparison and is paired appropriately with the tepid karaoke of "Handbags & Gladrags".

Jones' voice can be a staggeringly powerful tool and is deployed frequently, but when used only for synthetic effect they end up seeming something like Aerosmith as designed by Honda. Fuel efficiency is second to none, but you can never really feel the gearbox crunch. Which about sums it all up.

by James Berry