A long and vibrant queue snakes round the (what still feels recently reopened) Bristol Beacon, draped in Brazil shirts and sprinkled with glitter. The fan base is unmistakably Declan McKenna’s and the pre-show excitement is palpable. One couple, with an admittedly evident disparity in girlfriend to boyfriend Declan die-hard-dom informed me they’d been in line since midday to ensure optimal standing positions. An unnecessary precaution but a testament to the seismic pull the indie-songster holds these days.
The crowd were warmed up by former Dead Pretties frontman Jacob Slater’s relatively new and hugely acclaimed new project Wunderhorse as they belted out 6 brilliant new tunes from their upcoming second album. It didn’t feel as though the fanbases entirely aligned but the raw power and emotion of Slater’s vocal and the grungy, guitar sounds seemed to have even the most light-hearted, wide-eyed fans on side.
The stage design dwarfed the band as they played in front of what looked like a depiction of jagged Antarctic icebergs, but contrary to the frosty imagery the band took no time to warm up. McKenna opened the set with 70’s sensation, ‘Sympathy.’ With Harrison-esque slide guitar and a stage full of musicians to fill out the sound, the audience was in the palm of his hand from the very first note, other than the father of the family sat next to me who seemed far more concerned with the Champions League scores.
The 21-song set was packed with hits new and old, but predominantly was comprised of Declan’s latest release ‘What Happened to The Beach?’ But the atmosphere couldn’t have been further from a classic ‘Do your old stuff’ situation. Songs like ‘Nothing Works’ and ‘I Write the News’ garnered responses as visceral and impassioned as ‘Isombard’ ad ‘Why Do You Feel So Down?’ Such is the quality of the latest release.
The onstage energy was fantastic and begged the question, just what is Declan McKenna’s tour step count. He never ceased to move, impishly gliding around the stage; it’s the stark contrast between the potent, candid lyricism of songs like ‘British Bomb’s’ and ‘Wobble’ that generate such a powerful fan, artist connection and maintain a level of McKenna mystique.
Lastly, would it be right to review a Declan McKenna gig and not mention Brazil?
I don’t think so.
Were people on shoulders?
Yes.
Did I see someone cry?
Four.
Were phones out?
A few too many.
But none of that detracted from the unbridled ‘togetherness’ that song generates, a British indie anthem to rival any other from an artist who is currently at the peak of his powers.
Great show.
