THE success of The Stone Roses’ return to Manchester was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy, it would take a particularly confrontational journalist to disparage the pride of Manchester on their homecoming after sixteen years. It is for this reason that it should be stressed that no amount of self deception was needed to regard last night’s show as a resounding triumph.
Looking back at the ocean of ecstatic faces, upturned to the sky in reverence, there was the sense that no other band in any other place in the world could be so unequivocally adored.
History has been kind to The Stone Roses in a way that it has to few other acts; especially for a band who succumbed so spectacularly to the second album syndrome. In the space between their final show in 1996 and the present the four men have taken on a mythological status that even surpasses the ‘Godlike Genius Award’ bestowed upon Brown in 2006.
The exponential growth of the band’s appeal is a testament to their Earth-moving debut, an album that energised a subculture with an optimism and unity that had been absent since the zenith of the Hippie movement, and one that has been sorely lacking since.
That aura of belonging was reinvigorated last night from the first rumblings of ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ and carried well past the truly momentous finale of ‘(I Am The) Resurrection’, complete with fireworks to punctuate Mani’s exclamation that ‘we’re fucking back’. Looking back at the ocean of ecstatic faces, upturned to the sky in reverence, there was the sense that no other band in any other place in the world could be so unequivocally adored.
Stone Roses back in the day on the back of that album
Of course, with regard to Ian Brown’s casual singing style, as far as the crowd was concerned, the Emperor was still fully clothed. It has to be said, however, that bolstered by Reni’s backing the frontman’s performance was infinitely better than on his solo outings. Even if anyone in the crowd had the temerity to expose the Monkey King, they were drowned out by those who love Brown precisely for the panache with which he pulls off his idiosyncratic delivery as they echoed his every word back at him.
In a set designed to leave no one unsatisfied cherry picking highlights seems almost futile. Nevertheless, the sight of over 70,000 people all marching to the blissful groove of ‘Fool’s Gold’ encapsulated the sense that there was something bigger taking place than a mere indulgence in nostalgia. Mani and Squire’s guitars felt vital and exhilarating, and I do mean felt. Even when battling against the occasionally insufficient sound system their irrepressible funk released something atavistic in the crowd.
Not only were the instrumentals evocative and joyful, they were precise and expertly performed. Mani’s time with Primal Scream has kept his bass playing pulsating, sonorous and, well, primal. A fact that was proven best by the stunning ‘Waterfall’, a song that inspired perhaps the greatest crowd response; prompting one punter to bellow ‘fuck you rain, we don’t need you, we’ve got The Stone Roses!’ to local applause.
Individual accolades aside, it is the synergy the band achieves when the four men are onstage that pushes them above and beyond being a successful group into the realms of super-stardom.
Whether grinding out the awe-inspiring sounds of ‘Love Spreads’ or inflecting the monumental ‘This is the One’ with an almost ethereal glow, John Squire was as faultless as one would expect from the deservedly legendary guitarist. Similarly Reni was an unstoppable powerhouse crashing down on his kit with unreserved force throughout the night. Nowhere more emphatically than on the towering ‘She Bangs the Drums’ which precipitated arm waving and stranger embracing on an unprecedented scale.
Individual accolades aside, it is the synergy the band achieves when the four men are onstage that pushes them above and beyond being a successful group into the realms of super-stardom. Squire, Remi and Mani have all been recognised as excellent musicians in their own right but it is as a cohesive unit, with Brown as the swaggering pilot, that they reach their highest potential.
After last night’s overwhelmingly euphoric performance it would take a hardened cynic to view this reunion as simply another band past their prime cashing in on the lucrative nostalgia market. Where The Stone Roses can go from here is unclear but where they were last night was indisputable: in the birthplace of their legacy captivating an elated crowd of old and new fans alike with music that is still relevant and still uniquely Mancunian.
Crowd love
Thanks to www.nme.com (top) and the Sacalavic Blogspot (bottom) for pictures
