Brett Anderson
Academy 3, Manchester
08/02/2010

The Fly doesn’t wish to sound cynical, but there’s a lot more people here tonight than there might’ve been had a certain mid-90’s Britpop band not just reformed; the timing of which seems strange. In recent interviews Brett Anderson had sought to credent his solo career’s validity and, over six years, finally started to quieten the “ANIMAL NITRATE!” shouts that marred his early gigs. Tonight, these witty jesters have returned in force and threaten to, again, make things feel like a stopgap between Suede-past and their (now surely inevitable) full-time reunion.

To be fair to the enigmatic songwriter, if he is to call a hiatus on his solo endeavours then he’s not going quietly. This evening is a typically mixed bag of diva-theatrics, inappropriate dancing (he’s still “shaking his bits to the hits”), and some still-quite-wonderful vocals. What’s particularly noticeable though is how beefed up his band sound (yes, that IS ex-Dirty Pretty Things’ Didz Hammond on bass); recent album ‘Slow Attack’’s meandering acoustics have been injected with growth hormone and unshackled- opener ‘Hymn’ sandwiches between two meaty walls of sound, whilst ‘Julians’ Eyes’ walks with a cocksure strut befitting of its writer. Older numbers like ‘Back To You’ have become improbable anthems, Brett revelling in hearing his words sung back to him. He remains a man that craves the limelight- performing for all the world like it’s still Reading ‘97 and not a couple of hundred devotees in an SU.

These devotees ultimately carry Anderson’s set, their adoration and interaction with him lifts his songs (there’s no Suede tracks) above their fairly average fare onto a higher plain, giving them a greater resonance and power. When fully stepping back into the glare at the Royal Albert Hall, Brett would do well to remember what he might lose as a result.  

Simon Jay Catling