The Sharleen Spiteri roadshow hits the sheds once again, buoyed by the massive sales of their recent 'Greatest Hits' set. As the curtain rises, Texas launch into 'In Demand', not the most auspicious of openings perhaps but it sets the mould for an evening of pop-rock frivolity replete with lots of pouting from the woman herself.
They're all here - 'Black Eyed Boy', 'Halo', 'In Our Lifetime', their version of Al Green's 'Tired Of Being Alone' - all immaculately rendered for an oddly subdued crowd. Mid-set, the boys leave just Sharleen and the two backing singers on stage and they have a bit of fun with a Spanish gentleman plucked from the front rows to dance with Spiteri while she sings over some scratch beats. Typical arena show fluff but fun.
It's noticeable that Sharleen seems to be much more in her element here in the spit'n'sawdust of the live arena than pouting at photo shoots. Her voice sounds fantastic, even if her between-song banter isn't, with her tale of being mistaken for Elvis in a taxi earlier in the day particularly risible.
Still, all is forgiven with her solo acoustic version of 'Put Your Arms Around Me', with her voice reaching out and coating every inch of the cavernous arena. "It's our birthday" she announces as they kick into the distinctive steel guitar refrain of debut hit 'I Don't Want A Lover', currently celebrating its twelfth anniversary. At this point the crowd decide to wake up, betraying the fact that a lot of them were there in the beginning.
After bounding through 'Summer Son' the band depart. They return with Sharleen bedecked in leather and with a neon sign bearing the band's name lit up behind them (what is it about Elvis's 68 period at the moment?) for recent single 'Inner Smile'. And as if to prove the Presley thing isn't confined to the look, they play 'Suspicious Minds', although it's more Fine Young Cannibals than Memphis Mafia.
One more encore of 'Say What You Want', complete with shuddering Wu-Tang samples, and it's all over. And, all in all, despite Sharleen's somewhat studied posturing and the superfluous, credibility-seeking move of having a DJ on stage with them, substance manages to win out over style.
