CROWDED HOUSE (National Stadium)

MAYBE IT was the long haul flight – or the Beijing ’flu. Or the soporific effects of platinum sales perhaps? Whatever it was, ol’ Neil and Co. weren’t firing on all cylinders by a long shot tonight.

That’s the trouble when you’ve been privy to some of their most sublime live moments. Last year’s Woodface concert was a shot of sheer bliss distilled from a back catalogue that boasted more memorable one-liners than an entire Edinburgh Fringe retrospective.

Second time round the House is a tad less populated, the furniture seems sparse, the lights a whole lot dimmer than the last time. ‘Together Alone’ was duly aired but failed to ignite the quartet. Only ‘Pineapple Head’ and ‘Distant Sun’ managed to edge past perfunctory. ‘Walking On The Spot’ and ‘In My Command’ sounded like afternoon renditions for a sound engineer, far more taxing on the amps than on the ears.

The rapport between Finn, Seymour and Hester was sparkling as ever. Mark Hart remains the designer chic late arrival, confident and cajoling on keyboards yet frustratingly muted in personality. Seymour’s stamp was all over their wardrobe, his visual artistry guaranteeing him a day job in Milan or Paris should he ever want it.

And – that’s all. Woodface peeped in to raise the temperature a touch during the encore – but only just. Maybe they’re entitled to their off-nights too. Pity it had to be tonight though.

• Siobhán Long