Fresh off the back of a Summer supporting Oasis on their monumental comeback tour, Ashcroft has been duly priming the stage for his own solo return. Additionally bolstered by the recent release of his eighth solo album ‘Lovin’ You’, which reached second place in the UK album charts, Ashcroft appears a man emboldened, reinvigorated and evidently at the height of his musical powers.
As the evening's appetiser, Ashcroft had employed fellow Wiganers, The Lathums, as support. Bastions of the modern indie rock scene, the Northern four-piece boasted a snappy six-song set, opened by the forebodingly frenetic 'Stellar Cast'. A set highlight was found in the boldly Britpop number 'Say My Name', which, through thumping percussion and cathartic, mantra-like vocals, the venue's punters were promptly converted into Lathums lovers. Such a feat bodes well for the band, with the group due to similarly support Ashcroft at his upcoming date at Alexandra Palace Park next July.
With the 23,500-strong audience suitably primed for the evening's main Greater Manchester affair, Ashcroft's own arrival could not have been more anticipated. Clad in his textbook Ashcroft aviators, a leather bomber and wielding a set list that seamlessly ebbed between his solo discography and that of The Verve, Ashcroft crafted a swaggering yet almost sanctimonious affair. After opening with the reverberating ‘Hold On’, the voice of the Wigan-born lyricsmith soared with seasoned blue-eyed soul during The Verve's number, ‘Space and Time’.
An early, and perhaps the evening’s most poignant moral, came in the form of the joyous ‘Music Is Power’. The track was a cacophonous praise of the might of music, and when played in its extended version, it transcended with layered instrumentation and palpable devotion. Ashcroft’s almost messianic fervour was evident- a musical sermon for all those who cared to listen.
Yet even for esteemed artists, it is all too often the case that when they tour a new album and subsequently perform their newest material, a momentary lull descends upon the venue. Perhaps it is time for a beer, a habitual phone check- a catalyst for audience detachment. This conundrum, however, did not plague Ashcroft, with his newest solo endeavours appearing robust and sitting comfortably amongst his acclaimed back catalogue.
For example, the title track of ‘Lovin’ You’ saw Ashcroft’s chanting rasp appearing buoyant and laced with bravado, while ‘Oh L’Amour’ contrastingly gifted the audience a tender insight into the softer side of the totemic frontman. On balance, ‘Lover’, also from Ashcroft’s most recent release, was an accomplished pop caress that positively glowed with the singer’s warm reaches.
Alongside newer material, Ashcroft similarly excelled in the delivery of further solo stalwarts. His first solo single to be released after the breakup of The Verve, ‘A Song for the Lovers’ shone with blessed romanticism, whilst simultaneously demonstrating Ashcroft’s enduring vocal abilities. Taken from the same album, 2000’s ‘Alone With Everybody’, ‘C’mon People (We’re Making It Now)’ was an uplifting anthem, fit for the stage. Even amidst Ashcroft’s vulnerable admittance that the band had not played the track for a while, the song flourished.
Set highlights were plenty, namely the triple bill of The Verve hits: ‘History’, ‘Sonnet’ and ‘Lucky Man’. The rarely played and deeply raw ‘History’ served to showcase exactly why Ashcroft is an Ivor Novello-winning lyricist, even after Ashcroft further disclosed that "he isn’t very good at this one". You wouldn’t know it.
As personal favourites, ‘Sonnet’ and ‘Lucky Man’ lived up to years of expectation, with the rest of the audience similarly braying with anticipation upon hearing their opening chords. Ashcroft, strengthened by his string quintet, fostered that very specific and very coveted concert atmosphere, where audience and artists become whole. The distance between the stage and the very furthest seat were reduced to mere inches, as the Co-Op Arena sang its collective heart out.
Naturally, an already momentous set culminated in two further additions from 1997’s ‘Urban Hymns’: 'The Drugs Don’t Work’ and ‘Bittersweet Symphony’. An acoustic rendition of the former provided a softer, sombre moment in a riotous gig, whilst the latter, perhaps one of Britain’s biggest musical exports, was nothing short of illustrious. Dedicated to the late Ricky Hatton, ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ ascended to new heights. Ashcroft graciously gave lead vocals to the 23,500 gig goers- a man aware of the unique significance that his words play for each and every attendee.
Not that anyone needed confirmation that Ashcroft is one of the best rockers of our generation, but he rightly reminded the audience through smashing a microphone, kicking an amp and swaggering off stage left. Ashcroft successfully inhabits that middle ground where frontman meets wordsmith and poet meets performer. His presence is seismic, his music a gospel for so many, and his concert, well, his concert was a night to remember.