As an avid Blur enthusiast, tonight’s Olympia gig feels like heading directly into the heart of darkness. Brings back bad memories from time spent in ‘Nam. I fully expect to be beaten to a bloody pulp, or at least given a “Morning Glory is waaay better than Parklife!” sneer. Thankfully, the Britpop wars are over and, lest we forget, Oasis are no more. This evening, the wannabe Mancs are more content pre-show to Bez dance to the piped-in Stone Roses tracks. Then their King arrives. And truthfully, seeing the initials LG in such close theatrical quarters is enough to entrance the unconverted. He monkey-walks onstage with a swagger that will remain ‘til his dying day, every little thing screaming ‘proper rock star’. As soon as he appears, the packed Olympia crowd are rapt. Chants of “HE-RO! HE-RO!” erupt, never fading, but melting into “LI-AM! LI-AM!” around song number four.
If you ever wondered why the Oasis dinosaur lumbered on for so long after Noel stopped writing memorable terrace anthems, Beady Eye’s focal point provides the answer. Live is where Liam lives. As an added bonus, his once addled instrument is now back to its best. He sounds reinvigorated, and his voice is in fine fettle. It helps that they frontload the set with their strongest tunes. The opener ‘Four Letter Word’ hammers you into submission, ‘Millionaire’ proves Gallagher Junior is an unlikely songsmith, and ‘The Roller’ prompts the first singalong of the night. As for the band, comprising chiefly of old Oasis hired hands, they sound like the weight of the world has been lifted. Where once tracks plodded along, now they bounce. Everything is a little more nimble, a little more vibrant. Of course, it’s important to remember that this is a new band, so the material is a little scarce. They play for longer than one would expect, and things do tail off towards the end. ‘Bring The Light’ arrives after an hour and its Jerry Lee Lewis, idiot savant stomp would be the perfect way to close, but they persevere.
Unfortunately, the in-yer-face rockers, which leave little room for reflection or distraction, are gone by the second-half, leaving a clutch of ballads that sound like poor ‘Champagne Supernova’ imitations. Still, for the first-half they thrill, and Gallagher seems to be genuinely enjoying the Dublin atmosphere. If the old codger outstays his welcome just a tad, you can’t really blame him. He’s just soaking up every drop of hero worship. As a wise man once said: “LI-AM! LI-AM!” Your move, Noely.