James

Pouring their own gallon of fuel over 2007’s impromptu reunion-season fire, the classic Laid-era line up of James could bring a tear to a glass eye tonight. Just a few short hours after the death of Factory records impresario, Tony Wilson, who famously snared the band at the Hacienda and signed them up for their first EP in 1983, the sextet pay tribute with the euphoric sound of a new song that Tim Booth had only penned lyrics for this morning.

Though they choose to spend perennial classic, Sit Down, early on in the set, this clever tactic momentarily makes their biggest hit seem much smaller and allows the immortal baggy anthem of Born of Frustration and the tender, chiming, Say Something the gravitas to claw their way up the ranks as equals.

The ecstatic buzz around the venue continually lifts and dips, however, as obscurities plucked from their nine album catalogue induce something of a lull while hammering home a reminder that James still do thing on their own terms. Regardless of their hit to miss ratio, as Booth writhes and shimmies around the stage like an upstart half his age, it seems clear that this performance is a full blown rejuvenation of the soul for these godfathers of British indie.