Musing on the state of rock a few years ago, a contemplative Noel Gallagher claimed that, if Kasabian did their job properly, we wouldn’t need his own band in a few years’ time. Fast forward to the here and now, and Oasis have been and gone. Noel’s still flying high and solo, of course, but Marlay Park finds him and his Birds merely supporting the former heirs apparent.
Before the young things play though, the old dog of Britpop has his chance to prove his vitality. Not that he needs to woo a Dublin crowd – this is his third Irish date in less than a year. If the novelty of Noel sans Liam is wearing slightly thin, the crowd don’t seem to think so, greeting his announcement that this will be his last visit for quite a while with a chorus of boos.
Though the sheen of the new material has become familiar, this is offset by the mastery he now has over his solo set. Technical difficulties that prompt an early exit and re-start aside, this is a textbook example of how to do the big gigs correctly. Much of the new material has risen in stature – ‘Everybody’s On The Run’ brushes off the early problems, ‘If I Had A Gun’ prompts the first singalong and ‘AKA’ is greeted with rapturous roars. Of the High Flying Birds numbers, only ‘Dream Machine’ seems a little wishy-washy, plodding along uneventfully. The rest proves his songwriting chops are still very much intact, as is his surrealist humour and faux curmudgeon act, with the Manc goading the front row good-naturedly. Of the classics, ‘Supersonic’ is reinvented acoustically, ‘Whatever’ benefits from a lack of Liam and the closing ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’ is such a powerful moment that you fear for the following act.
Not that we need too – at this stage Kasabian are a formidable live beast. Their Oasis iinfluences are still in evidence, but in reality they’re a far more inventive proposition, unafraid to mix electronica with trumpets and gnarled guitar solos. Primal Scream come to mind.
As for the twin frontmen, Tom bounces about, talking up his Irish connections (he bleeds ‘green’ etc), whilst Serge is almost shamanistic, bandana in place, veering from gazing at the stars to cursing at the moshpit. It helps that they now have four albums of equal heft under their collective belt – newies from Velociraptor! are as well-received as the likes of ‘Club Foot’. They don’t have Noel’s way with a ballad, but they have the riffs and swagger in spades.
If Oasis started off sounding like a burly Troggs before The Beatles crept in, Kasabian have grabbed that early meathead influence and gone supeernova. ‘Shoot The Runner’ is glam redux, ‘Underdog’ is music for stepping into a boxing ring and ‘Empire’ sounds like a clear-headed Shaun Ryder leading a Bez-dancing army into battle. Not that they don’t do tuneful. ‘Where Did All The Love Go’ is a widescreen, big-hearted anthem with a slight Stones sneer, while ‘Cutt Off’ belongs on the football terraces. Throughout, techno interludes mix things up and the cinematic stylings of Ennio Morricone are all over their latest efforts.
Then there are the inspired covers. Serge leads a tender singalong of ‘Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometimes’, whilst ‘Praise You’ (in honour of Gallagher) segues wonderfully into ‘Lost Souls Forever’. By the end, the boys onstage are as lost in the moment as the crowd and a final prolonged version of ‘Fire’ is incendiary. Literally. Halfway through, a flare ignites and is held aloft in the centre of Marlay Park to mass cheers. A nice bit of well-intentioned rock ‘n’ roll anarchy in a tightly controlled environment, it fits.
As the light dies out, a few a capella lines of The Beatles’ ‘She Loves You’ serenade us homewards. Bringing everything full circle, Kasabian’s place in rock’s proud lineage seems confirmed.