Ásgeir "Solo" UK Tour 2024, Cottiers Theatre, Glasgow. Monday 30th September 2024.

I only have myself to blame for not making it to the front row for this gig. I said we'd leave at 6.15 p.m., and then I started playing a video game. My wife, who was ready to go at the appropriate time, had to shout me downstairs. We still made it to the venue before the doors opened, but not early enough. 

Initially, I settled on the aisle seats of the third row but realised my view of the centre would be blocked, so we moved forward and over a couple of seats. This way, I could see between the shoulders of the two girls in front (I don't mean in an X-ray vision kind of way). 

With nearly an hour to kill before the support act, GDRN, I used the time to finally finish Jasper Fforde's "Red Side Story". Yes, while the grown-ups were downing their pints, I read a book. I should have gone for a pee, but I wanted to finish it.

The rather beguiling GDRN sang beautifully in Icelandic. Thankfully, she introduced her songs in English. Although I couldn't understand her lyrics, the songs still felt touching, which says something about the universality of her music. A male musician accompanied her, but because of the angle of the seating, I could barely see him. (I later listened to her recent album and was surprised by how poppy it was, given how stripped-down this show was).

At the interval, I nipped to the loo. On the way back, the woman sitting next to my seat shifted her legs over rather than stand up. As I stepped around her, I lost my balance. Grabbing the empty chair in front, I took it with me and fell over, partially landing on her. She matched my apology immediately, and then we said nothing more about it.

Ásgeir was supposed to be playing 'Solo', but he was joined on stage by GDRN's musician. Apparently, he'd helped out on a couple of songs at the start of the tour and extended his presence to accompany Ásgeir for the whole set. Once again, I couldn't see him fully, so I immediately ruled out any chance of capturing a photo or video with them both in it. There was something powerful about the former church setting that deterred me from taking lots of pictures. Only after the girl beside me snapped a couple did I feel comfortable enough to take my phone out.  

The show was delightful. Ásgeir comes across as quite shy. He does talk to the audience between songs sometimes, but mainly to introduce the songs, mentioning which EP or album the track came from. The audience is rapt, except for one older gentleman in the front row who insists on returning to the bar after each pint to get a refill. He was tall and grey-haired, and he walked with a jerky kick as if he had to shake his legs to wake them up. His wife was not amused when he returned with her third pint. I imagine he thought to himself that he'd finish it for her if she didn't. I can't understand why he needed to drink so much. 

After the show, we didn't bother the merch stall. There were too many people around it to see what was on sale. Ásgeir said he would come out to meet people there, but we left before he appeared.

The Cottiers Theatre is a lovely venue with great sound and some subtle lighting changes, but oh my gawd, those seats don't half numb yer bum. Next time, I'll remember to bring a cushion.

Going Home

  

I'm sure the setlist could be decoded by Ásgeir

Ticket Price: £22.50 & £3.50 booking fee & £0.50 E-Ticket feeTotal: £26.50 per ticket (From Tickets-Scotland)

Anthony Jeselnik, "Bones and All" Tour, SEC Armadillo, Glasgow. Saturday 28th September, 2024.

I missed Anthony Jeselnik when he last played in the UK in 2018 (I could have gone to one of his two midweek 10.30 p.m. shows at the Edinburgh Fringe, but I was a 'responsible' pharmacist who had to work the next day). I have regretted that ever since. He's remained at the top of my comedian bucket list.

Now, I can scratch his name off that list. I wouldn't have missed his performance for anything. Indeed, I even sold my tickets to Simon Brodkin at the Pavilion for tonight so I could go.

On the way to the Armadillo, I noticed a youth in a full Indiana Jones costume. Beside him walked a shorter boy in a black, full-length leather coat and hat, reminiscent of the villain Toht, played by Ronald Lacey in the first Raiders film. I didn't recognise the costumes worn by the two girls. Only later, when I passed an angel with massive wings and another girl/boy dressed in something weird, did I realise it wasn't for a fancy dress party. They had all been to the Acme Comic Con at the SEC, which had just finished for the day.

The Hydro and the Armadillo had a small police presence outside. Perhaps some prankster had alerted them to a possible fight at the location (the Hydro was hosting PFL Europe, an MMA night) or to the presence of youths brandishing weapons (I saw an unmasked Deadpool with crossed swords across his back). Or maybe they were there to arrest Anthony due to reports he was going to kill tonight.

Anthony is a master of misdirection and shock. His dark jokes can actually take your breath away because of the gut punch his punchlines deliver. Anthony won't win any awards for his joke rate; his delivery is deliberately slow and teasing. But when he lands his joke, it'll knock you out every time.

Before the main man, though, we were treated to a support act in the form of Kelly Ryan, a US comic who regularly tours with Anthony. She offered us her tight twenty. She was funny, but sitting in row D of the stalls, I, unfortunately, had a green spotlight shining in my eyeline, causing me to close one eye and then both. I worryingly nearly nodded off and had to force myself to stay awake. 

Fortunately, my attention woke up for Anthony. Dressed in a battered leather jacket and dark jeans, he prowled the stage bathed in red light, adding a devilish tinge to proceedings. His opening material was so sharp I actually winced at one point, covering my mouth and nose with my hands like I'd been punched in the face. His car crash gender reveal party punchline was outstanding. 

Then, I began to predict where some of the jokes would go (revealing him as the villain), thus losing their shock value. He finished with an extended story about working with one of his heroes, Norm McDonald, on Last Comic Standing, which I think would have worked better as an encore story (there was no encore). Perhaps he felt he needed to tell it as a tribute to his late hero. 

He's been touring this material for two years, so it's bound to be filmed for a special soon. It might not have had the same impact on screen that it did live, so I'm glad I finally got to witness him in person. He was brilliant.             

Ticket Price: 

1 Artist Presale Ticket £50.00
£6.75 (Service Charge Artist Presale Ticket) x1
£1.70 (Facility Charge Artist Presale Ticket) x1
Order Processing Fees Handling Fee £2.00
Total £60.45

 

Steve Hofstetter, "Kill The Butterflies" European Tour, St Lukes, Glasgow. Thursday 26th September, 2024.

I missed Steve Hofstetter's last UK tour on principle because his Glasgow date at The Stand started at 7 p.m., and I was working until 6 p.m. I didn't want to arrive late and have to sit somewhere with an obscure view or, worse, stand at the back for the entire show. I regretted not going, though, because I figured, as he was American, I wouldn't get many opportunities to see him live.

When he announced this tour, the Glasgow date was at St Lukes. I knew the seating plan there would be more forgiving, so although it was on another work day, I bought the tickets regardless. I wasn't going to miss him a second time.

Many of you may not be familiar with Steve. He was a pioneer on social media for sharing his crowd interactions, demonstrating an incisive and articulate precision in his takedowns of unruly hecklers. I found his anti-Trump rhetoric refreshing. He's a comedian who does his research and calls out wrongdoing whenever he sees it, but always with a comic's eye.

The ticket and website said 7 p.m., but it didn't explain if that was the showtime or when the doors opened. I didn't get a reply from St Lukes when I emailed them asking for clarification, so I played safe and drove like a maniac to get there before seven. My usual parking area near the Barrowlands was a bust because Cannibal Corpse were playing at that venue and had an earlier door opening time. It took a while to find somewhere to leave the car as that area of Glasgow is strewn with double yellows. Fortunately, as we drove past St Lukes, I spotted the queue outside, so I knew I could relax. It was a 7 p.m. doors open, and the queue was tiny. 

Once inside the venue, my wife wasn't amused that we were again sitting for an hour waiting for the show to begin. I was happy, though. My seat was on the aisle midway back with a great view of the stage. The space between rows was comfortable, suggesting the layout had been spaced to accommodate lower-than-expected ticket sales, making it feel like a sell-out. Anyway, I bought my wife a red wine to smooth things over. It came in a plastic tumbler and cost the same as my can of Irn Bru, so I suspect the quality wasn't vintage.

This early, the crowd included a few distinct characters, such as the woman with crutches and special eye patch spectacles. In fact, many of the audience members had crutches, giving the seating area the feel of a hospital waiting room. Or, perhaps, given that we are in a converted church, they're here to be healed with laughter. It is the best medicine, they say.  

Time passed quickly, and before we knew it, the show began.   

Steve bounced onto the stage and explained how the night would work. In the first half, there would be two support acts—one local and one he'd brought with him from the States—then an interval, and then he would do his set. The night would end with a Q&A session. 

He explained how much he loved a Scottish crowd, but Edinburgh had let him down the previous night. Now, the pressure was on us to prove how good a Scottish crowd could be. If it went badly, then it was our fault. He also explained that he'd had to change some of his material to remove American cultural references and replace them with more local ones. He assured us the material would still work, and we'd hardly notice.  

I'd never heard of the first act, Peter Bell, despite his being from my hometown, Paisley. He delivered the standard type of set new comedians deliver: mocking his appearance, telling us a little about himself, and making jokes about where he was from ("Paisley: a town with more dentists than teeth"). His set was short but funny and went down well.

Next up was Brett Druck. His set was full of jokes, told with an impish charm. It was very entertaining and surprisingly self-deprecating for an American.

Steve's set covered two main topics: his life-long battle with anxiety and his take on why he doesn't believe robots will destroy humanity. He was superb. Although he'd claimed some of his set was brand new, it felt like a fully-crafted show, tossing out zingers throughout. I loved how he'd punctuate a reference change with a quick "Celsius" to let us know he knew what he'd done.

The Q&A afterwards with Steve and Brett was bizarre. The first question asking if they'd bought any of Trump's merchandise was met with confusion and an obvious "No". The thick Glasgow accents didn't help the comedians understand what was being asked. Then, the bloke behind me boomed a question about Trump. This was immediately followed up by a remark that he was speaking so loud because he was pissed off that he couldn't hear what the others were saying. He then talked over the comedians as they tried to answer him, not understanding how a dialogue worked. Embarrassing.

His pal then chimed up, "What about Middle America?" 

"What about Middle America?" Steve replied, confused.

"You know, the bit between New York and San Francisco."

"I'm still waiting to hear your question."

The man mumbled, sounding inebriated, still not asking a specific question.

"Sir, you do understand what a question is? It usually goes up at the end and finishes with a question mark."

The loud man beside him interjected dismissively. "I told my friend to keep quiet. He doesn't know what he's saying."

After an extended back-and-forth that went nowhere, the comedians thankfully moved on. 

Despite this end to the night, Steve told us we'd been a great audience and that he would be at the merch stall after the show. He usually avoided it because of his anxiety, preferring to decompress alone backstage. He also asked us to tip the staff whatever we could afford to make their day.  

I thoroughly enjoyed the night. I did tip the staff, but I didn't buy any merch. 

They had stickers. 

Who buys stickers?

Ticket Price: 2 x £30 plus Booking Fee £7.20 =  TOTAL £67.20 from TicketTek.

Brett and Steve during the Q&A

The Simon & Garfunkel Story, SEC Armadillo, Tuesday 24th September, 2024.

This was my wife's pick. I'd dragged her to enough gigs of my choice, and not necessarily to her taste, that I knew not to complain when she suggested we go. I even booked the tickets straight away while we were still sitting (typically early) in The Tron's auditorium awaiting Two Doors Down. 

When we arrived in Glasgow at around 6.45 pm (for a 7.30pm showtime), the streets were unusually quiet, and there were plenty of places to park. The walk to the venue was also less busy than usual. After passing through security and getting our tickets scanned, we entered the Armadillo (not in a zoological sense) and noticed the queues at the main bar were short. They usually go all the way into the main hallway, but not tonight.

Forty minutes to showtime and not a queue in sight

The reason became quickly apparent as the show began. It wasn't anywhere near a sellout. Tranches of seats remained empty, and the downstairs auditorium was perhaps just over half full. There were people on the balcony, too, but from my seating position, I could not see how many.

I didn't know what to expect from this show. The stage set-up had two microphones at the front, various guitars on stands, and a drumkit in the middle at the back. A big screen sat above them against a curtain backdrop depicting New York City. 

No video or photography was allowed during the performance.

What we got was a performance of Simon and Garfunkel's songbook in chronological order with story interludes explaining the pair's journey through their career, from school chums to the biggest-selling musical artists of the early seventies. The interludes detailed their troubled relationship as the duo moved creatively in different directions, eventually breaking up. Mainly, though, the show focused on the music. The singers' harmonies were fantastic throughout. The band was tight. The sound in the auditorium was the best I've heard in there. It helped that our seats were in the middle.

This was neither a simple tribute act nor a theatrical production—it was something in between. Whenever the leads spoke, they spoke as themselves. They used their real names when they referred to each other. The actor playing Art had an actorly, overpronounced diction, while the one playing Paul had a more Northern English regional accent.   

At times, it felt like I was watching a band entertaining a group of pre-geriatrics in a nursing home, the elderly audience responding to the singers' requests to clap or sing along with old-time glee (but without the stamina to continue for very long). Near the end, one woman got up to dance, her arms extended at ten and two, moving up and down to the music, one hand still clutching her pint tumbler. She sang her heart out but only lasted half the song before realising she was the only one standing and sank back down again.

A man behind us had an awful cough, which somewhat spoiled the musical offering. During every song in the first half, he'd punctuate the air with the sound of resistant phlegm. At one point, I even considered turning around and shoving a Werther's Original in his mouth, telling him to shut up and suck it. I didn't. I only had two left and was saving them to share with my wife during the interval (we are so hip replacement). His singing voice was not much better. It could best be described as a disharmonious drone, albeit a stealthily quiet one.  

At the end, the performers received a standing ovation but only for a short time. As people were already on their feet, many made a beeline for the exit. It didn't take long for everyone to get out. 

I still enjoyed it. It was something a little different.

Blurb:

Direct from a weeklong run in London’s West End at the Vaudeville Theatre, a SOLD-OUT Worldwide tour and standing ovations at every performance, The Simon & Garfunkel Story continues to stun audiences across the globe! Using huge projection photos, original film footage and a full live band performing all the hits including 'Mrs Robinson', 'Cecilia', 'Homeward Bound' and many more."

Ticket Price: Ticketmaster

2 Full Price Ticket £41.45 x2 = £82.90 

Per Item Fees £1.70 (Facility Charge Full Price Ticket) x2 = £5.60 

(Service Charge Full Price Ticket) x2 = £14.60 

Order Processing Fees Handling Fee £2.00 

Total £99.50 

Ed Byrne, Tragedy Plus Time, Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 22nd September, 2024

Tour blurb:

Attributed to Mark Twain, humour is defined as Tragedy Plus Time. Come and join Ed as he tests that formula by mining the most tragic event in his life for laughs.

We have received the news that due to a performance opportunity in New York, Ed Byrne will no longer be able to appear at the Pavilion Theatre on Friday 10th November (2023). We have however managed to secure a new date, and the show will now take place on Sunday 22nd September 2024!

I was dying to see this show. It had been the highest-rated of all the Edinburgh Fringe shows of 2023, with the press describing it as "poignant, touching, spiky and laugh-out-loud funny."  Laced with black humour, it recounted Ed's relationship with his younger brother, Paul, and the rocky times they shared up until Paul's death. My kind of comedy. Then, as you read above, the show was postponed. Fecker! Putting his desire to further his career over my need to laugh. How bloody selfish!

The two seats in front of us remained empty.

I had my heckle "About bloody time!" primed and then I remembered I'm as meek as a mouse with a voice that doesn't project further than my nose, so I chose to remain silent. 

Ed came on first to warm us up for his support act, Amy Matthews. He railed at the four empty seats in the front row, knowing they had been sold, commenting he reckoned that was the ultimate heckle, not turning up, knowing it was the best way to get under his skin. Then, instead of saying nice things about Amy, he undercut her introduction with playful jibes like "You'll know her from her blog, 'Ten Things I hate about Glasgow', updated hourly." All in impish fun. 

I can't tell you what Amy talked about because I closed my eyes and tuned out. My temporary mental absence might have been due to her Emily Blunt-sounding accent or her bland material. I could vaguely hear others laughing, so this one's on me. I'm sure she was delightful. 

Ed was brilliant. Given that his now-dead little brother was a renowned comedy director who helped up-and-coming performers fine-tune their shows, this was a perfect tribute to him. Every line was a killer, crafted for maximum comic effect. Yes, the material was dark but never shocking. Even the darkest joke he'd ever told was fitting in context. Even though Ed has been performing this show all over the world for over a year, he choked up at one point, retelling a conversation he'd had with his sister. He confessed that this was probably because he had family in the audience, his older brother (now just brother).

I'm glad I got to see this show now and not at the Fringe. There, it was constrained to one hour. Tonight, he gave us seventy minutes, even managing to throw in a funny topical aside about the Oasis reunion. 

The show was not a sell-out. That was a shame because comedy doesn't get much better than this. I hope he records it for posterity, though getting clearance for Sebadoh III (the album Ed played on his phone while a comatose Paul was dying in hospital) might prove costly.    

On the drive home, I thought I was getting chest pains, probably from all the laughing. I could have taken a detour to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital to get checked out but instead continued home, figuring that if I died within the next seven days, my wife would at least collect an extra death-in-service payment on top of my life insurance. That's how much of a caring husband I am.

Ticket Price: £27.50 x 2, plus £1.50 Postage and £2.65 Transaction Fee, from Pavilion Theatre (now Trafalgar Tickets).

Fern Brady "I Gave You Milk To Drink", King's Theatre, Glasgow. Friday 20th September, 2024

"Do you want to go see the Scottish lassie from Taskmaster? She's playing the Kings," I asked my wife. She thought about it and said, "Yes." I didn't reckon she'd be her cup of tea, but if she keeps insisting on answering 'Yes' when I propose something, she only has herself to blame.

On the day of the show, we went out for a proper lunch rather than having a big dinner later. She chose Dé Buddha, a Nepali/mixed-cuisine restaurant in Collier Street, Johnstone. The service was fantastic, and the food was divine. We both had the Chicken Kathmandu. I had a coke with mine. I hadn't slept well and thought the caffeine would give me a lift.

I still needed an afternoon snooze. I awoke on the bed with the dog pawing me as if reminding me I was going out soon. My stomach gurgled, and I let out the noisiest, smelliest fart I've delivered in a long time, so unpleasant the dog jumped off the bed. This was not good. I was due to sit in a cramped theatre for two hours. I couldn't inflict such smells on a Scottish comedy crowd. Imagine the embarrassment of pretending it was my wife. 

I dealt with the matter as best I could prior to departure, making sure I washed my hands afterwards. I then practised fart retention in the car with mixed success. I promised myself I'd try harder in the theatre.

Susan Riddell was Fern's support act. I recognised a lot of her material from the last time I saw her, but it is a testament to her quality that I still found her set funny. Her natural delivery does a great job of disguising the craft of her writing. She's still single, on the apps and missing the pleasure of a good argument with a partner. Tonight's set covered her top two arguments and her most embarrassing moment. Her twenty minutes flew by. Big tick.

After the interval, Fern opened by explaining why she wanted to do crowd work like every other comedian—to boost their Instagram profile - but she couldn't because, being autistic, she couldn't handle the randomness of audience interaction. Her Bathgate accent is thick but manageable if I concentrate. 

Her set included discussing her use of Botox, how her Scottish low esteem sabotaged her attempt to crack Hollywood, and how her Scottish sensibility insisted she down a forgotten thousand milligrams of MDMA before a flight rather than throw it away. Her Bake Off material rose well, relating her frustrations at not being allowed to bake due to the hosts' chattiness and her awkwardness talking to the camera about the cancer charity (inconveniently, none of her family had had cancer; instead, they'd been killed by proper Scottish diseases).

Once her hour was up, Fern thanked us and left the stage. It was unlikely we'd see her at a merch stall (there wasn't one), so we headed home.

My wife did enjoy the show, much to my surprise. I found Fern a breath of fresh air - a quality hour of Scottish standup.  

Pleased that I'd managed to retain all involuntary gas movement, I suffered from a stomach ache all the way home. Standing in the back garden, I set them all free just as the sirens of multiple emergency vehicles erupted, heading up the main road. You can always trust Paisley to kick off a Friday night rammy when one of their own needs to hide the sound of his farting. The smell, well, that's just Paisley all over.

Ticket Price: 2 x £26 plus £3.95 Transaction Fee = £55.95 from ATG Tickets.

John Bishop, "Back At It" Tour, Paisley Town Hall, Paisley. Wednesday 18th September, 2024

This was my first visit to the Town Hall since its makeover. I didn't know what to expect. Space-age holograms? Virtual ushers? Levitating walkways? Nah, none of that.

Our tickets were for the balcony. A staff member inside the entrance directed us to go through a set of double doors and then take the stairs on the left to the top. As we ascended, the air had that fresh carpet smell, the tread underfoot soft and luxurious. Arriving at the first floor, the Gallery level, we were instructed to turn around and continue up. Another flight of stairs brought us to a silent area empty of people. It felt almost forbidden, like we'd climbed too far and were now one door away from finding ourselves outside on the roof. Then, a young gentleman in a OneRen T-shirt appeared, examined our tickets and told us where to sit - in the very back row.

When I purchased the tickets, I hadn't even realised the Town Hall had two tiers or that our seats would be the absolute furthest from the stage, so I was slightly disappointed. The view was ever-so-slightly restricted thanks to a lighting rig obscuring the upper part of the big screen on the stage.   

Thankfully, this got raised to the level of the others prior to the show beginning, but that didn't change the fact that we were so far from the stage. The temperature on the Balcony was sub-tropical, with various patrons fanning themselves furiously with their paper tickets to cool down. At least the seats were comfy. 

I was tired and occasionally found myself resting my chin on my hand as John, without a support act, did some crowd work sprinkled with anecdotes in the first half. I had a little difficulty making out what he was saying, partly due to his jowly Scouse accent and partly due to the hall sound. 

It didn't get better in the second half, though his prepared material did. Discussing his case of 'The Manopause', he acknowledged he'd been feeling out of sorts until a gynaecologist (long story) put him on testosterone. This, and forgetting Tommo, a childhood friend, during a random encounter with them, inspired him to complete the bucket list he'd written when he was seven. 

We hear how he managed to achieve most of them, including killing a Dalek and shooting a laser gun. My pedantic brain would not let me enjoy this bit. Nick (Briggs) isn't seventy and hasn't been doing the Dalek voices for over forty years (or so I thought at the time - he's been doing them on TV since 2005 and with Big Finish since 1996, but I'd forgotten about the Audio Visuals that started in the late '80s). Anyway, at the time, these inaccuracies quashed the comedy for me. 

His dilemma over whether to accept Sir Ian McKellen's personal request to appear with him in pantomime was funny. It could also have been interpreted as an attempt by Gandalf to groom the comic into snogging nightly for one hundred shows (semis optional). But that's theatre for you, darling.

A couple of pointless heckles irritated me. Someone shouting out 'Huw Edwards' while John was discussing Hugh Bonneville just seemed moronic, as John pointed out. He'd been discussing genetic Englishness, and Edwards is Welsh. Maybe the individual got triggered by the two sharing a similar-sounding first name. Fortunately, the heckles were few and far between, perhaps because John couldn't make out what was being said.    

The people I was with thoroughly enjoyed the show. I found it a bit shabby, a bit like his stage outfit. Maybe he's still perfecting his routines because it didn't feel like a polished, finished product. Or maybe my next expensive purchase should be a pair of luxury hearing aids to combat my own version of the manopause. 

Ticket Price: Ticketmaster

4 Full Price Ticket £32.50 x4 = £130.00 

Per Item Fees £3.25 (Service Charge Full Price Ticket) x4 £13.00 

Order Processing Fees 

Handling Fee £2.50 

Total £145.50 

The Very Best of Texas, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Saturday 14th September, 2024.

 

The first time I saw Texas was back in 1994 on a triple bill with Horse and Gin Blossoms (ticket price  £9). They were amazing then, and they are even better now.

The Saturday gig, the first of two consecutive nights for them at the OVO, is sold out. We arrive early, skip the drizzle-soaked queue thanks to our OVO Live tickets, and make our way in. The wristband the security person attaches, because we have Standing tickets, snags the little hairs on my arm, but I manage to detach them with a twist without too much discomfort. We hadn't intended to go near the front, but as there was space, we ended up about seven deep from the barrier with a trio of shorter ladies in front of us. There are only a couple of tall gentlemen between us and the stage. The view is excellent.

The stage set up for support act KT Tunstall has a drumkit, guitars, and her usual electronic equipment. On the two occasions we'd seen her before, she'd always played solo, joking that all her band members were from Taiwan. Was this going to be a different style of performance from her? Full band?

Not quite. Andy Burrows, drummer with Razorlight, is accompanying her on the drum kit and various instruments. The new dynamic works well. She's no longer the lone voice expecting us to wait while she builds her loops. The sound is fuller, and her voice is clear and pitch-perfect. She's got the banter, too, to keep us entertained. She's played mashups before, where she morphed her songs into covers/tributes, but tonight, they went down really well with the thunderous crowd. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed her short set.

One person drew my ire with her flip-cover camera. It didn't occur to her that she could flip the phone around, so the flap was below, not above, obscuring less of the show for those behind her. This was a minor irritation, though, as by the time Texas came on, she had already moved over, closer to the middle, away from me.

Setlist: KT Tunstall

I Am the Pilot

Dear Shadow

Other Side of the World / America (mash-up)

The River

Black Horse and the Cherry Tree / Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) (mash-up)

Hold On / Walk Like an Egyptian (mash-up)

Suddenly I See

A curtain drops from the ceiling as the crew clear her equipment. I liked that. It added a sense of theatricality and mystery to proceedings, building the anticipation.

I'm amazed by how many people this close to the stage have dressed for the weather rather than for the show in their puffy jackets and coats. It's Sweat Central where we are.

Bloke at the very front.

When the auditorium lights go down, we're greeted on the curtain by a striking sunrise silhouette of the guitarist as he twangs the opening chords to "I Don't Need a Lover." 

Wow!

The curtain drops, and massive screens showing a desert sunrise dominate the stage, which is split into two levels. The keyboards and drums are on the higher level, with Sharleen, Tony, and Johnny up front.
 

There's that cover flap again.

So begins a glorious evening. The set, as the tour title suggests, is brimming with the very best of Texas, covering the entire span of their thirty-five-year career. Sharleen's voice is incredible, and she looks fantastic. In front of her home crowd, she comments we bring out the very worst and very best in her. Her potty-mouthed banter is refreshing. She reminds us she may be a fucking global pop megastar, but she's still a mum forced to clean up the empty beer bottles after her daughter's party, laughing with the band when said girl, in her English accent, tries to say the word 'Bowffin'. Sharleen has never forgotten her roots.

We were standing so close it felt like we could hear her singing unamplified. The crowd was the loudest I've ever heard at the Hydro (maybe because the ladies around us screamed like they were actually watching Elvis, which wasn't far off at the end of the show). 

When not showing the band, the visuals on the big screen were used well, looping clips from their videos or scrolling across the crowd. It's still freaky to find yourself magnified on the big screen while thinking, "Gawd, you're ugly." 

It was a far better night than I anticipated. Maybe because we were so close. Maybe because the band and the sold-out crowd were so up for it. Either way, it was one of the best gigs of the year, not least because Sharleen still fitted into the Tom Ford-designed Gucci leather jumpsuit that she originally wore twenty years ago.  

Setlist: Texas

I Don't Want a Lover

Halo

Everyday Now

The Conversation

Hi

In Our Lifetime

Tired of Being Alone (Al Green cover)

Keep on Talking

Summer Son

Insane

Let's Work It Out

When We Are Together

Put Your Arms Around Me (acoustic)

Sleep (acoustic)

In Demand (acoustic)

Mr Haze

Black Eyed Boy

Say What You Want

Encore:

Inner Smile

Suspicious Minds (Mark James cover)

Tired of Being Alone

Black-Eyed Boy

Ticket Price:

2 OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door) £50.00 x2 £100.00 

Per Item Fees 

£6.75 (Service Charge OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door)) x2 

£1.70 (Facility Charge OVO Live Presale Ticket (enter via OVO door)) x2 £16.90 

Order Processing Fees 

Handling Fee (£2.00) £2.00 

Total £118.90