Security was tight tonight at the Hydro with the male bouncer vigorously frisking me, only pausing at my jacket pocket when he was unable to identify a tepe brush. He was, however, from touch, able to identify a sweetie wrapper inside my denim's change pocket. At one point I thought he was going to ask me to cough (he didn't go that far - my dignity remains intact). Conversely, my wife got waved in without any physical interference. Fortunately, she wasn't tooled up with anything other than her elbows (we had standing tickets).
Inside, our tickets were stamped as were our wrists (in case they were subsequently removed by some coronavirus-preventing handwashing). Access to the arena was still closed via the door stipulated on our ticket, Door B, so we waited in the foyer until we overheard a security person direct another ticketholder to Door A.
The door confusion seemed to work in our favour as the arena was quiet and we managed to grab an ideal spot close to the front of the mini-stage in the centre of the hall. The extended stage was probably the reason for the door closure, not wanting a last-minute influx directly in front of this area.
The support act, the Wind and the Wave, also played on Kelly's solo tour, only now there was four of them, adding a drummer and an electric guitarist. The bigger sound was better but still of no great interest to me. The Texas act remained on stage for an interminable forty minutes.
As usual, just before the headliner appeared, latecomers pushed their way forward. Two such people, a young man and his wife, landed beside me, him carrying a cardboard rack with four pints of Foster's lager. She helped him remove their lids and took one for herself then handed him his. He exclaimed what was he thinking buying four, then proceeded to down the first. I can't tell what age he was from his looks. If he was a cut of beef, I would describe him as fatty. His wife looked older but maybe living with him had aged her. She gave him his next pint and lifted out the last one so he could discard the tray. She then handed the last pint, leaving him with one in each hand, a process I can imagine her using at home to prevent initiation of foreplay.
The band begins, though the hall lights don't go out until midway through the first song. Our view is excellent with Kelly singing right in front of us. They play hit after hit and the sound is brilliant, the lighting fantastic and the crowd loves them. So far, so good. About forty minutes into the gig, Mr Beefy, decides he wants to take a picture but needs both hands to hold his phone so wedges the plastic tumbler with its near-full pint between his upper arm and chest. I then discover he is a premature spiller as the contents ejaculate down the side of my jacket, trousers and shoes. He shrugs, holding the now crushed container with a dribble left inside, and gives me the look that I'm sure he's given his wife a thousand times: "Sorry". I spend the rest of the gig smelling of beer, slowly drying out.
It didn't dampen my enthusiasm though.
More people push in but we hold our ground. The posh girl nearby gets annoyed by the jostling and tells her boyfriend. She requests they stop. They ignore him. She puts up with it for a while then communicates to her boyfriend that she's going. They both leave.
My wife is their next target in their quest to move forward. They don't reckon on my wife's elbows. This is the woman that protected a barrier for forty minutes at a Take That concert while her friend went to the toilet. They are going to wake up with some mighty sore bruises on Thursday.
The gig was superb, a real joy. A great view, great lighting and great songs. Kelly at one point told us he has recorded over 160 songs. With such a strong back catalogue, the show was always going to be good but even the new songs fitted in nicely. I loved it, despite smelling of beer.
Setlist:
C'est la vie
I Wanna Get Lost With You
Bust This Town
Geronimo
Maybe Tomorrow
Have a Nice Day
Mr Writer
Hungover for You
Restless Mind
Local Boy in the Photograph
A Thousand Trees
I Wouldn't Believe Your Radio
Traffic
Make Friends With the Morning
Indian Summer
Mr and Mrs Smith
Fly Like an Eagle
Superman
Don't Let the Devil Take Another Day
Handbags and Gladrags (Mike d’Abo cover)
Before Anyone Knew Our Name
Sunny
The Bartender and the Thief
Encore:
Elevators
Just Looking
Dakota
