GIG NUMBER ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE

Who
The Stone Roses
Support
PiL
Johnny Marr
Miles Kane
Where
London Finsbury Park
When
8th June 2013
Price
£55.00
Who with
Matt
Position
Towards the front
Comments
I guess I knew it was scientifically impossible for The Stone Roses to live up to Heaton Park, as even if they tweaked the setlist to bring Elephant Stone and The Hardest Thing In The World back in place of Something's Burning, a show in London could never live up to the excitement of Manchester, and even if it somehow did it still wouldn't match the joy of hearing those songs live for the first time. Nevertheless I'd enjoyed myself so much then that I was quite content for a lesser glimmer of the brilliance I'd seen on display in Heaton Park, and it was much appreciated that Matt in London was keen to go too and got the tickets, which was fair enough seeing as he was out of work at the time and had more opportunity than me to buy. Saturday night was our first choice and we had little problem getting the tickets, and I'm amazed to see that the tickets kept going back on sale many times when I kept re-checking Gigsandtours out of curiosity. In fact I tried to persuade someone from work to come along - the same guy who didn't bother joining me for MBV - but he spoke about not being able to get tickets and all sorts of ridiculous excuses and no doubt missed out, which is unforgivable as I made it quite clear that getting tickets was really easy, and in fact even some Heaton Park tickets appeared for resale back in 2012. My ticket was a snip at £55 and the main Roses incident of note beforehand of course was the premiere of Made Of Stone. I pre-booked tickets to see that with my brother in Wolverhampton and read that the Manchester screening was the fastest selling cinema performance of all time! It was quite alarming when Reni didn't show up and the band barely made an appearance, but seeing not only the film but an extensive live feed from Manchester made for a fantastically good evening out for just £10ish.

The highlight of the film of course was the surly early interview with Ian and John, and it was lovely to be in a cinema showing that felt "special", with the crowd applauding twice at the end and happily laughing along, even if it wasn't the sell-out I expected. There was a moment of local recognition when the film cut to Wolves to cover the court case from 1990, but as much as we tried to enjoy the film there were a few bones of contention. For example, the director committed the ultimate fan sin of cutting off the end of Resurrection, as well as rudely ignoring such classic cuts as Don't Stop, Mersey Paradise and Sally Cinnamon. Despite claiming to be a massive fan he'd given away his ticket to Spike Island in a drug-induced craze, which was a funny story but not something I could imagine a half-sensible mega fan doing, and when what we really wanted was oodles of footage from Heaton Park all we got was a 15-minute take of the grossly over-played Fools Gold, which may have been technically astounding but cut the audience out so much that the special atmosphere of the show was obscured, and it felt more like the greatest BBC radio session ever than an era-defining concert. It was also a missed opportunity to not push the band a bit to answer questions, especially about new songs and what really happened with Reni in Amsterdam. Is their reunion really so delicate that they can't handle a quick Q&A? Perhaps the fact John Squire walked away from a BBC interviewer when asked about it may point us towards the terrifying answer that, yes, it is a fragile truce. Maybe I'm nit-picking, as the Roses are a band who can get so close to perfection that I demand only the very best. What would really excite me is a full DVD of Heaton Park, like the Fools Gold footage but with far more crowd noise and distance shots added in for additional atmosphere. Annoyingly my train back from the showing was cancelled, but in a rare show of organisational skills a replacement bus service got us back in pretty much the same time. From my experience so far, Roses events and transport chaos seem to go hand in hand!

To prepare for the show I pre-booked tickets to see The Tempest at The Globe for a bargain £5, plus invested much more cash to climb The Shard. I surprised myself by finding the time to watch the DVD of their Blackpool show from 1989 - possibly for the first time since Heaton Park - then spent the next couple of nights planning an itinerary to make the most of my weekend in London. When it was announced that Miles Kane, Johnny Marr and PiL would be supporting, after a very long wait for clarification compared to Glasgow who knew right away, I felt like I'd hit the jackpot, as the poor, poor guys attending the Friday show would have to endure Dizzee Rascal, Rudimental and The Courteeners instead. Frustratingly my Facebook messages about the gig met to little or no response - I need to meet more people who are interested in posting about things other than bloody babies and cats! We had a large work night out on the Thursday so I had to prepare one night earlier, in fact booking the Britannia Hotel in Wolverhampton for the Thursday night. We went to a lovely bar and grill restaurant near St Paul's Church in Birmingham before moving on to The Jam House next door, which featured a live band and one type of £5 Belgian bottled beer hidden amongst the otherwise mediocre range. I did very little work the next day due to being astonishingly hungover - putting me in the same boat as pretty much all the other attendees - but it was an excellent warm-up to my first big weekend of summer 2013, and I'm pleased to report that the Britannia Hotel is absolutely fine, despite the many negative things I'd heard about it.

On the Friday I nursed my head and kept a close eye on the trains, asking to leave earlier than anticipated as they started randomly cancelling the direct trains from Wolves to Euston. I felt very happy to get to London and the hotel - which we'd booked for a bargain price slap-bang in central London to avoid the hassle of getting back and forth between Central London and Zone 6 - but was less impressed on entering the hotel/student halls as literally the most incompetent person I've ever met was on duty. He initially checked us into a single room, despite our booking very clearly stating it was a twin room, then claimed not to have any twin rooms, then fiddled about, then eventually found a room, then gave us the wrong keys, then couldn't arrange for us to pay as he didn't know what the hell he was doing, before eventually giving us the keys so we could check into our distinctly functional room. As I have very modest expectations for hotel rooms I was reasonably happy just to get in, not even minding too much that the shower stand was broken. I cannot possibly exaggerate how completely fucked we'd had been if they hadn't found us a room, as we'd spent a good £25 on climbing the Shard and specifically booked a hotel to avoid the extra time commuting, much of which was wiped out by this retard fannying about checking us in. Still, the mood was positive as we walked past the Imperial War Museum - which was closed - towards The Shard, erring on the side of caution by just getting a Subway meal for tea, which in fact was a delicious and low-cost alternative to a pub thanks to an excellent chicken tikka wrap, unnecessary meatballs and also a cookie!

The Shard itself was hugely impressive as we were whisked up to the observation platform, but I was resigned to the fact there'd be highly reflective glass everywhere to add glare and generally ruin the photos of the excellent views. This is the 21st Century, science must have a solution to this! The View was less busy than expected - as after the initial rush the clamour for tickets had died down - and we'd strategically timed our ascent so that we could get a good view of London by day, sunset, and ultimately by night. Quite a few people had had the same idea too and our slice of luck for the day was that the sky was absolutely clear, as finding London shrouded in fog would have been a horrifying disappointment. In fact we probably could have managed to buy on the gate - albeit for £5 more - but this was one part of the night where we'd struck the jackpot. We struggled to locate Wembley Stadium, admired the new skyscrapers in the City Of London and thought we'd found The Stone Roses onstage, but I believe we were probably looking towards some deceptive flashing lights in Victoria Park instead. We were kicked out after sunset after getting our fill of The View and I was determined we head towards the Bavarian Beerhouse in the City Of London, but had just assumed that Matt would know exactly where it was and we struggled to find it. Thankfully I'd written down the address so we ultimately located it from a map, and I must have been pretty damned hungover still as I struggled to finish just one stein! The place was playing an entertaining if overly predictable mix of popular pop/rock tunes - such as Smells Like Teen Spirit and Bohemian Rhapsody - and as we'd amazingly only got round to our first pint after 11pm I think I spied some Roses fans kitted out in Reni hats passing us by outside, presumably back from the show.

Things were now looking up and we fell to sleep reasonably well in the uncomfortable beds, or at least until we were woken up at 7 A fucking M by a wanker of a security guard knocking on our door wanting to know why we hadn't paid. After explaining that the guy at reception didn't know what the hell he was doing last night and that we'd pay later he left us alone, but by this point we were so livid by their incompetence that we resolved to check out a night early and also cancel our next reservation here no matter how much it may cost to find another one. I tried to get back to sleep but was just to angry to, so a much-needed good nights sleep had been lost thanks to the worst hotel experience of my entire life. Fortunately for them a much nicer lady was on reception in the morning who was very apologetic, as I was about to defy my personal beliefs by giving them the most scathing negative review that had ever been written. We never even found out if we could have stayed a second night - the guy from the previous night hadn't been able to tell us anything - but thankfully had no hassle about leaving, and cancelling three nights of accommodation should be punishment enough for them. As we'd now lost a hotel we had to go back to Matt's place in Orpington and spent much of the morning missing train connections by literally 2 seconds each and every time. The weather forecast was wrong as it had predicted sunshine and high temperatures, but it was actually bone-chillingly cold in the morning and the only saving grace was that the rain kept away, as after checking three forecasts I'd been confident enough to bring no rain coat with me at all. We dropped our stuff off in Orpington and made plans for our return to Zone 6 after the concert, but the really exciting bit was setting my eyes on the beautiful Finsbury Park tickets.

My ticket number was #32,074, compared to the advertised capacity of 40,000, which was a higher number than expected but presumably they didn't go out of their way to send tickets out in the order in which they are ordered? I was proudly wearing my red Heaton Park t-shirt and Reni hat but disappointingly had only one moment of recognition, bizarrely from the lift attendant at Westminster Cathedral. Yes, that's right, I'd decided to go on a tour of some of London's more obscure cathedrals, and Westminster Cathedral was the first stop. I vaguely remember passing it once and being amazed, picking it out as a wondrous example of London having many obscure but amazing buildings hidden away. In fact it's not quite as off the radar as I thought, but it still felt quite special checking out the views from the tower as it was a really bright day. The lift attendant in fact had gone to Friday's show but seemed totally non-plussed by it, exposing the scary thought that the show could be ruined by indifferent and unappreciative Londoners. When back downstairs we wandered around the impressive cathedral, where a service was in fact on, and I have to give kudos for the unusual fact that Catholics are rarely camera Nazis and just let you get on with taking photos. At the time of writing it's in the news that a man has been arrested for defacing a portrait of The Queen in Westminster Abbey and, as wrong as that act may be, if it's in protest at their policy of not letting you take photos then I may be able to let him off the hook. We then erred on the side of caution by stopping for lunch at a random pub around Victoria, seeing as it looked alright but wasn't yet another Nicholson's inn. The range of beer was poor because they'd ran out of Blue Moon, but the staff were friendly and the fish and chips reasonable, and the option of having strawberry ice cream with the chocolate cake absolutely blew my mind! Strangely enough this filled us up for the rest of the day, and even after the show I felt no temptation to eat any more.

I then took us past Westminster Abbey itself - which looked excellent in the sunshine and with no-one to stop me taking photos - and St Margaret's Church which did have a Nazi no photos policy, and crossed Lambeth bridge to go back towards the area where the hotel was. Their incompetence and our point of principle in checking out had wasted a good few hours of our day! The next port of call was St George's Roman Catholic Cathedral, which looks rather ugly on the outside but has an impressive minimalist interior, and I was shocked to learn that it had been bombed in World War II, a fact rudely glossed over by Llandaff Cathedral which claimed it had been the second most bombed cathedral in Britain and conveniently ignored this Roman Catholic building to try and make us feel sorry for them. Considering the time wasted carting our things around I think that two new cathedrals in one day was impressive enough, so we decided to jump onto the tube, changing to get onto the Piccadilly Line, which was possibly the wrong call as the Victoria Line had more regular trains. Ultimately however London public transport has far greater capacity than the Manchester Metro and the carriage never quite filled up, even allowing for a photo of me in Stone Roses garb with an empty carriage before we arrived. We got off at Finsbury Park station and the gates were right next door, although we had to walk all the way around the park to get to the main entrance. The gates had opened at 4pm and we were inside by 4:30pm but I couldn't quite get over the number of people just lazing around on the scruffy grass verges, showing no interest whatsoever in going inside to enjoy the show they'd paid good money for. One part of the warm-up we omitted was the ceremonial drinking of some Cherryade, and considering the setlist later I do fear this could have cursed us! Getting inside was easy, with swift and efficient security checks, which was a nice surprise as the rear of the tickets displayed many Nazi rules which were completely inconsistent with the moderate and reasonable rules advertised online.

We got in after a quick sweep with a manual metal detector and were excited to finally be there, and also that the site wasn't too busy and it looked in pretty good shape considering the band had played the night before. The fact it hadn't rained was probably what made all the difference! We grabbed a bottle of water and I paid my one and only visit to the toilets, which were in a perfectly acceptable condition, then had a brief look at the merchandise store, although I decided to save my purchasing until afterwards. This was definitely the right call as the beer being thrown through the air and the stench from the smokers would have been a difficult start for any new top, and after wandering around the crowd my choice of purchase in fact completely changed. Although it wasn't too busy yet we then headed straight for the stage, being surprised that there was no inner barrier or anything, presumably a concession to the smaller capacity and different venue. Miles Kane was next up but first we enjoyed our only opportunity to sit down for a bit, and the sun was now out but as it was getting towards 5pm my Reni hat was more than sufficient protection from its rays. Looking around there was a healthy range of t-shirts, including an impressive "don't need to sell my soul" one, where the word "soul" was replaced with a picture of the underside of a shoe! Obviously the audience were largely male, and there were plenty of people of all ages, and there were even more Reni hats on display than in Manchester, presumably as to the people of London it isn't quite so obvious a choice of headwear, whereas Mancunians may have gone out of their way to be more original. I also spotted an alternate red Heaton Park t-shirt which has a little logo on the front and all the Heaton Park writing on the rear, which strangely enough I can't remember seeing in Manchester. The sound desk seemed particularly massive and was located further forwards than expected, and I kept peering to see if any celebs were amongst the people observing the show from up there, but couldn't spot anyone, although one guy did look a little like Jack White.

Our spot was almost slap bang in the middle, slightly to the right of the bump in the centre that was too easy to fall over. This remains a fantastic strategy to minimise pushing - as once you get to the centre why would anyone want to move - and I'm grateful that more people don't think like we do, as if everyone else headed for the optimal crowd position it just wouldn't work. We ended up further forwards than before, so much so that it was a struggle to see the side video screens, and observed that the stage included tatty fragments of the Manchester set-up, including the letters "NCHESTE"! The running order had been clearly advertised and Miles Lane was first up at 5:15pm, taking to the stage promptly and dressed smarter than ever, including some very brave and tight white trousers. The crowd were frantic - including an insane amount of toilet roll been randomly thrown around - and amusingly a guy started splashing his water in all directions in a sprinkler system style. Everyone was either generally enthusiastic or were keen on Miles himself, and he even got away with his decision to open with three completely unknown songs. The first hit then came with Rearrange as I shot my one and only video of his set, being disappointed afterwards to find that the excellent picture quality was offset by the sound randomly jumping in and out. This was my first gig with this new camera and it's a shame that no camera manufacturers put a bit of thought into getting good sound to come out of a video recording. Maybe I could have solved the problem by holding my camera a little higher, but as usual my excessive consideration for others prevented me, although I did take plenty of photos in the knowledge that only a fraction of them would turn out well. After another newbie the set returned to the hits with Inhaler, before Miles blew us away with his new single Don't Forget Who You Are, which was hugely catchy and I was happy afterwards to download it and enjoy it further. Also the sound quality was reasonable, if a little ragged, and it was excellent to be seeing Miles Kane for a second time effectively for free, especially after the disappointment of no-one wanting to go and see the NME Awards tour with Miles, Peace, Django Django and Palma Violets in Birmingham.

The set ended strongly with Come Closer, featuring an extended intro and outro and much opportunity for singing it back, and although Miles Kane had kept his debut album to an absolute bare minimum he had done the decent thing of playing its biggest hits. In fact I'm now reading that First Of My Kind and Give Up - the openers - were released as non-album singles, so although they may be b-sides to me they do have some small pedigree. Miles finished at 5:50pm and the crowd still hadn't filled up so Matt dared to go for a loo break, although as I was pacing that bottle of water I felt alright, even though ultimately the crowd didn't get properly busy until PiL came on. Matt was underwhelmed for some reason but I have to give Miles Kane kudos as being the best support band of the day. Next up was Johnny Marr - or Johnny Fuckin Marr as his excellent t-shirt proclaims - sadly he wasn't daring to sport it, opting instead for a much smarter appearance, but the said t-shirt was available from the merch stand. Although I'd proclaimed 2012 the year of Manchester music The Smiths were the missing piece of the puzzle, and as I'm not fussed enough to splash out on seeing Morrissey this could be the closest I'll ever get. His very large name banner was raised and Johnny Marr took to the stage at 6:15pm for a hero's welcome, which is fair enough considering he's bolstered his cool considerably with his stint in The Cribs. His set was a combination of five anonymous solo efforts - which we paid polite attention to - with four Smiths songs thrown in for the crowd to salivate over. First one was second track Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before, and I could tell from the crazed reactions that most people knew it, and vaguely recognised it from the one compilation album I own. Much more exciting was Bigmouth Strikes Again, as the crowd went apeshit and I shot my second video of the night, capturing the hysteria and beer flying through the air. The sing along was outstanding and I'm surprised that this tune had never registered with me before.

The Smiths are - whisper it - just not in the same league as The Stone Roses, or Oasis, Joy Division, New Order or, hell, even Inspiral Carpets! The clamour for them to reform is one I can't quite fathom. Panic is their only song which I truly love, and sadly it wasn't played, but hearing Johnny Marr was a potent reminder that they have some mighty fine songs which with a little effort I could learn to love, and if they ever do choose to tour there's a great chance I'll get swept up in the hysteria and try to bag some tickets. I assumed the finale of the show had arrived with How Soon Is Now? and shot a brief video, but Johnny went slightly over his 6:55pm curfew to blow us away with an electric version of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out. I'm ashamed to say again that the song has never quite registered with me before, but the sing along and unexpected bonus of another track was phenomenal, and Matt's comment that his singing was poor proved redundant as we were happy to sing along rather than being intent on the quality of his voice. His guitar playing didn't sound especially sharp either, as the anthemic scope of the songs outweighed all technical proficiency, and although How Soon Is Now? was good, it wasn't the musical tour de force I was expecting. As Johnny left the stage - having done well but being too reliant on past glories to steal the support band crown from Miles - a memorable moment occurred as a trailer for the Made Of Stone film was played, with the crowd singing along insanely to the obvious choice of Roses track. We joined in too and this spontaneous burst of pure joy was one of the best bits of the night, reminding me that The Roses have a power over an audience - even over a stereo system - that many bands I see struggle to attain at the peak of their setlists! Security were patrolling the crowd and confiscated a few bottles, yet somehow failed to spot the ludicrous amount of drug paraphernalia everywhere, not that I had a clue what any of this stuff was!

A scary number of drug dealers were patrolling the area offering us their wares - not something I've ever really seen before at a gig - and I hit upon the excellent idea of burying a stash in the park before the barriers are erected then digging it up and selling to the punters on the night. A career in petty crime awaits! As I hinted at earlier, there was a lot of smoking going on which stank out our clothes, and much beer was flying through the air at many points during the night. Fortunately I only got splashed a bit, and no doubt the disgusting choice of Fosters as the official drink led to additional wastage, but it got me thinking that banning beer in the front of gigs would be a decent idea, as real music fans don't need loads of alcohol to enjoy the band if they're any good, and it would also stop the endless pushing of people entering and exiting the moshpit throughout the show and reduce some of the more twattish behaviour you can get at large gigs. Throwing beer through the air is the final straw for me though, as it's the point you go beyond ruining your own enjoyment by being pissed and start impacting upon everyone else. At one point it looked like it might rain - in complete defiance of the weather forecast - and we laughed at the two guys wearing rain coats, but ended up being impressed by their solution to avoid beer being splashed over them. I have to say I was mightily intrigued by PiL, although felt a surge of disappointment upon checking their recent setlists and learning that they can't be arsed to play any Pistols songs. Getting to watch bands I can't quite motivate myself to see in their own right in a supporting capacity is excellent, as no doubt PiL would be ridiculously over-priced at a nasty venue like Birmingham Academy, and are much better outdoors. In theory anyway. We watched with amusement as the roadies struggled to suspend the PiL logo - which was predictably shaped like a pill - above the stage, and noted that all three support bands had very clearly displayed their names onstage so we were in no doubt as to who we were about to watch. The side screens helped further by switching to some artwork before the bands took to the stage, even utilising the classic Heaton Park red lettering prior to the Roses coming on.

PiL came onstage at 7:20pm and the reaction was bafflement from start to finish. I'm still not quite sure if I was missing something, maybe they simply don't work as a live band, maybe Johnny Rotten wants to be hated and enjoys goading an audience, but I'm erring towards them being a massive pile of shite! Johnny Rotten was obviously the main man, although there was also a really old guy with a pronounced beard and long hair, and Rotten was dressed bizarrely, wrapped in a shawl sporting his trademark quiff. He claimed to be very local to the area, and the Pistols had played a massive comeback concert in Finsbury Park back in 1996, but the highlight of the show for me was a girl hoisted above the crowd, enthusiastically making wanker gestures and sticking her finger up to Johnny Rotten, although I'm not quite sure if this was part of the fun for her or if she completely hated it! As the overall vibes of the night were so positive the reaction remained one of confusion, with very muted applause and almost no booing or participation in any of Johnny's attempts to make us clap. Interestingly my setlist states This Is Not A Love Song was third up, but it sounded to me more like the opening song was an extended ramble which eventually built up into it. I knew the title only and that this was their biggest hit, a fact that Matt reacted to with a disappointed "oh dear!", and another point of interest was a guy towards the left of the stage dressed a bit like a punk clown, who either was a minor celebrity or a hanger on with crazed dress sense, looking like a combination of Ken Livingstone and Keith Allen. I've got to say I was very pleased with my camera close-ups, and the one video I shot during Love Song randomly featured a snippet where the sound quality suddenly increased and became excellent, possibly at the point the volume was dropped. Although for the briefest of moments PiL threatened to entertain us they were ultimately a poor choice of main support, although Matt was being a bit harsh to declare all three support bands a waste of time, especially considering the shite that the Friday night crowd had had to endure.

Not long afterwards Reni's lemon drum kit was wheeled out, and I knew that the moment was fast approaching. I'd done a slightly better job than last time of making my water bottle last - but only slightly - and this time around had resisted all temptation to go online and check out the setlist, although I had read that the guys had been rehearsing a couple of songs they hadn't played since 1990, including Elephant Stone. Much of the warm-up music was quiet and went unnoticed, although perked up considerably with Love Will Tear Us Apart, reminding me that I'd been fortunate enough to see New Order twice in 2012, and also some Happy Mondays and a bit of (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher didn't go amiss. I struggled to take photos of Mani's Toby jugs, and the fact I almost managed it and hadn't even noticed them last time proved that we were a good bit closer than last time. As we were rather excited we gradually edged further forwards, not being put off by the drunken tossers, including one guy who fell flat on his arse, anticipating that the atmosphere would be a good-natured sing along by the time the band took to the stage. Unusually we would retain - maybe even improve - our position throughout the performance. One difference to Heaton Park was that there were no video screens projecting footage to those fans on the far sides, but otherwise the set-up was very similar, even including the same video screen that moved as the show progressed. The atmosphere was building and the crowd grew impatient as the Roses were 10 minutes late onstage, and I was annoyed by the possibility that they may have to shorten their setlist to make up for the delay! We tried to spot the band backstage but to no avail, as there were many, many people onstage, including a small terrace to the left filled with hangers on. Kudos has to go to whoever decided to start throwing around the Lidl beach ball, and you could tell things were getting serious as much less toilet roll was now being chucked around! The roadies tested the video screen and gave us a brief preview of the Fools Gold lasers, but for one guy it all proved too much, as he was loudly screaming over and over again "Stone Fucking Roses, are you here or are you not?" or something to that effect, which was annoying yet fairly amusing. Plus he earns more credit than the guys who exited their excellent positions literally seconds before the band took to the stage!

At around 8:50pm I knew the moment had come as we heard the strains of Stoned Love by The Supremes, leading to a similar rush of excitement to last time as we finally caught a glimpse of the guys backstage to the right, enthusiastically hugging each other before taking to the stage. Last time the excitement was seeing The Stone Roses finally appear onstage in Manchester after all the drama and many years of thinking it would never happen, this time it was anticipation for another amazing show after knowing that they had it in them, and of course a little relief to see Reni was still there, now sporting quite a beard in addition to his trademark hat/bandana. A red flare was briefly set off to our left and loads of smoke was let off to the right, and already the London crowd had defied expectations to prove that they can love the Roses every bit as much as a Mancunian crowd can, even if many of them probably had come down from that great northern city just for the occasion. The band finally took to the stage and started up as expected - indeed as the law should insist upon - with the strains of I Wanna Be Adored. Again they rushed the intro slightly, and the impact of the song kicking in was downplayed, but the moment Ian Brown opened his mouth and the crowd started singing back it practically equalled the excitement levels felt at Heaton Park, and once again this was probably the best song of the evening for me. After an extended ending no doubt instigated by John Squire I started praying for Mersey Paradise, but they came as close as they could to beating it by launching into Elephant Stone instead! Again the power of the intro was lost a bit, and it was only the rushed single edit rather than a drawn-out version, but it took the pressure off to know they'd so quickly righted the biggest mistake they'd made at Heaton Park. In fact listening back to the single edit I'm warming to that version a bit, but if they'd just had played it at Heaton Park I'd had got it out of my system, rather than building it up as this amazing song when in reality it barely scrapes into their top 15 finest moments.

Up to this point I'd been blown away by the enthusiasm from the London crowd, and as much as I missed Mersey Paradise it was a joy to cross Elephant Stone off my list, but sadly things were about to take a turn for the worst. I enjoyed Ten Storey Love Song, and it just about has enough power to deserve its place so early in the set, and Standing Here was salvaged by the awesome video footage, as I tried very hard to equal the brilliant few photos I took at Heaton Park of its psychedelic imagery. Nevertheless, these weren't top-drawer tunes, and they were straddling the line when they launched into Going Down, which was let down a bit by its relative obscurity to the crowd, and I shot my first video of the set, this time trying very hard not to sing over it. Still, these aren't necessarily bad songs, Going Down was one I hadn't heard before and that bit in the middle about Jackson Pollock's Number Five will always be a moment. Alarm bells were really ringing when they played Shoot You Down without preceding it with the wonder of Where Angels Play. Played by itself it frankly serves no purpose, and considering that I was measuring this against the mighty yardstick of opening with I Wanna Be Adored Mersey Paradise, (Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister and Sally Cinnamon it was clearly falling short. It's hard to begrudge them Fools Gold as so many of the fans seem to love it, and after appreciating its technical brilliance and sheer laser power via the Made Of Stone film I was better able to enjoy it, even shooting a short video of Ian waving his maracas frantically towards the end, but sadly not of that teasing snippet of Day Tripper which was again present and correct. Still, I was waiting for the set to soar, the guys were teetering on the edge here, and the way to salvage the first half is absolutely, categorically, not with the pile of shit that is Something's Burning. Have The Roses not listened to fans telling them to drop this song and that nobody likes it, or has nobody bothered to tell them? Are they really that stubborn? The fact they persist in knocking the monarchy in Elizabeth My Dear and that Ian Brown famously used to eat nothing but chips indicates that perhaps, yes, they really are.

You could try and dismiss Something's Burning as a harmless chill-out moment in the middle of the set, but after considering what they had to leave out to make room for it it becomes unforgivable, and the only way they'll ever learn is by fans like me being bold enough to stand up and say to get it the fuck away from the setlist. One thing about Something's Burning though is that it represents an absolute nadir that cannot be challenged, and I was hopeful that they were about to launch into a turbo-charged second half of the set, being proved right over the next six songs. Waterfall was quite a way to recover and I shot a brief video, and started chanting "don't stop!" as they deliriously drew out the ending before segueing beautifully into Don't Stop. Dropping that little trick is one boundary I would not permit them to cross. I'd had the excellent idea beforehand of shooting close-up portrait photos of each of the individual members then combining them into one stunning composite image, but as it was now quite, quite dark the moment had passed, and decent photography became a struggle, especially when Reni was hidden behind a drum kit for most of the set. The crowd participation during She Bangs The Drums was phenomenal, and Love Spreads was performed with enough energy to keep its place standing mightily amongst the early greats. The probable second best point of the show though was This Is The One, which I've got into in a ludicrous way since I last saw them, and the pointing and chanting of "THIS IS THE ONE!" was just incredible. In all the excitement I didn't spot any costume change and there was no sign of Ian's dollar t-shirt this time, but the only complaint I can make here was that this should be the penultimate song rather than the underwhelming Elizabeth My Dear. It definitely felt like the guys were making up for lost time when they then launched into Made Of Stone, which featured some more excellent singing along, and I pulled off the feat of catching someone's phone when they somehow managed to drop it.

As far as recoveries go things were looking good, but time was running out and there were still plenty of classics to get through. Therefore it was with a feeling of sheer horror when I recognised that they'd launched into Breaking Into Heaven. Last time The Second Coming had been bolstered by being kept to a bare minimum and, hell, I even like this song when played in the right context, but this was 6 minutes that nobody wanted at this stage of the night. Time was now getting on and I wondered how they could pull this back, so was disappointed to hear Elizabeth My Dear, although the monarchy bashing was a little more restrained this time around. Ian Brown reprised the verse at the end but I was concerned as I'd correctly surmised that this was to be the penultimate song. A drum solo preceded the inevitable finale of I Am The Resurrection, and mindful that this is basically the best closing song ever I did my best to enjoy it, happy to whoop for joy like everyone else when they started it properly. I filmed a bit of the ending and the video footage featured letters being randomly rearranged on the screen and there really is no better way to end a show. My concern is over what they did between Adored and Resurrection! I correctly predicted that I'd be unable to shoot a decent photo of their arms aloft in the air so decided to film it instead, being pleased to extract a couple of acceptable still images of the four guys striking the pose despite all the hands trying to block my shot, and also as a bonus got to see Ian Brown doing the Bolt pose and Reni punching the air and throwing some stuff into the crowd. Fans were loudly chanting "Roses! Roses!", which wasn't the most imaginative heckle, but the band all seemed genuinely elated by the reception and are fortunate to have such great songs to offset the lulls and worm their way back into our affections. Their traditional ending song over the speakers is Redemption Song by Bob Marley, but I can't say I noticed it as the stage gradually settled down - this time there were no fireworks - and we made our way towards the exit.

Except firstly I needed to cut across the crowd to get to the t-shirt stand, which was doing a roaring trade, barely making it amongst all the pushing for the exit. After spending a couple of hours watching Reni in his awesome yellow top I'd changed my mind to buy the £22 yellow top for myself, deciding an extra £2 over the cost of a bog standard t-shirt was well worth it. While waiting in the long queue I encountered a second case of Fellow Stone Roses Fan Miscommunication Of Sarcasm At The Merchandise Store, but this time it was arguably my fault as I said "fuck the Roses for being so popular", when I really should have said damn them, but despite my small error I doubt the guy I spoke to was on the same wavelength anyway. A couple of observations about the t-shirt, firstly that Reni seems to have a long-sleeved edition, and secondly that this was a 2013 version, with the dating subtly distinguishing it from the "real" fans who'd purchased it at Heaton Park. The curfew was 10:30pm and the guys had finished pretty much on time, and although there were some complaints about the volume this was more of a problem for the fans choosing to stand at the back, as although my ears weren't whistling I never thought anything was wrong with the sound levels. We walked for a bit following the map of walking directions to Kings Cross I'd had the foresight to print off, wonderfully the police had had the good sense to cordon off the entire road so the fans could exit the site and walk down it without a problem. My delay in getting a t-shirt probably ruined any chance of getting on the Tube, but the police with loudspeakers announcing there was a one hour wait for Finsbury Park Station were probably resorting to wild guesswork, yet nevertheless we were happy to get some exercise and as we were moving rapidly, and as we turned left towards Kings Cross most of the crowd had shot off in a different direction. Matt was in charge of the map and didn't lead us astray, and after a bit we were fortunate enough to jump onto a relatively quiet bus taking us directly to Kings Cross.

We got to overhear a retarded conversation between other fans who were wondering why they hadn't played an encore. If you can think of a way to follow I Am The Resurrection I'd like to fucking hear it, and why is so much importance attached to the token gesture of exiting then reappearing on the stage? They then followed this by declaring a 1 mile walk from Paddington as an extremely long way, but it was a pleasure to eventually find our way into Kings Cross and to easily jump on a tube then train back to Orpington in Zone 6. Our experience at Alexandra Palace had made us wary of getting home after concerts but this worked out very nicely, and this time around there was no chance of being woken in the morning by a dickhead security guard! Our clothes stank just like they used to in the dark days before the smoking ban was introduced and I not only had a reasonably night's sleep but found a good bit of time to make the comprehensive notes that I built upon to compose this review. The next morning was really fucking cold again but I was just proud to be wearing a Reni t-shirt, if again baffled to see nobody fawning at my feet in worship over my excellent taste! We found time to rebook the hotel for my next visit to London in just two weeks time and chose an excellent place to have breakfast, enjoying a rare meal where I could happily eat every single thing on the plate. As we started off in Zone 6 the morning just vanished, as I thought we had oodles of time but thanks to the Sunday closure of Cannon Street we had to backtrack, barely making it to The Globe in time for the 2pm performance of The Tempest, again enjoying the £5 standing tickets. The play was completely disjointed and demented yet well acted and entertaining, although somebody really needs to shoot down the helicopter that kept inconsiderately flying overhead! One advantage of the way we'd walked - and hell, it was a pretty excellent bonus - was that I spotted a sign for a Bierkeller, so we headed back there after the show to discover a fantastic cellar with some astonishing steins and beer on tap and I got to enjoy a hugely satisfying schnitzel meal before having to head back to pick up my belongings and to head home.

It actually made the Bavarian Beerhouse look a dump by comparison, and I guess I now have a new favourite London pub! After getting home I randomly researched Hofbräuhaus beer, noting I couldn't find it anywhere in England, and was amazed to discover that Las Vegas has a pretty incredible-looking replica of a German beer hall which I absolutely need to visit. I picked up my stuff and made my way back home without a problem, even utilising the laptop I'd had to bring from work to pre-sort the photos I'd taken over the weekend and save some much-needed time for when I got back. While I was waiting at Wolves station I had a rather nasty - and unnecessary - cabbage and chicken tikka wrap, and made my way back home with just ten minutes to spare before I had to get to bed. I was disappointed yet again by the lack of enthusiasm about The Stone Roses on Facebook, but was completely trumped by my mate who posted a photo of himself with Mani over the weekend! Sadly I didn't see him there, but that sense of superiority over people who missed out on the gig is always a pleasant feeling to have! Not that the show was perfect though. Far from it. I was measuring it against perfection and every single deviation from Heaton Park had to be justified and wonderful to my ears and eyes. Overall at Heaton Park they'd played two more songs, but here we got to hear Elephant Stone, Going Down and Breaking Into Heaven for the first time - two out of three ain't bad - which looks very poor when you consider that Elizabeth My Dear, Standing Here and Something's Burning stubbornly remained in the set, and we lost out on five astonishing classics to make room for them, namely Mersey Paradise, (Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister, Sally Cinnamon, Where Angels Play and Bye Bye Badman! One relief was that the setlist was precisely the same on the Friday night, and also at the second warm-up show in Paris, but at the same time you wonder what is the point of a warm-up when the band don't notice that the setlist has one massive lull and an anti-climactic Breaking Into Heaven in it, and amend it accordingly?

The first Paris show must have been a special night, as it was the first time they'd played Elephant Stone since 1990, Going Down since 1989, and Breaking Into Heaven since 1996, and also they didn't fanny about with Elizabeth My Dear. Delving deeper into their setlists indicates that Paris was the big shake-up to their setlist, as in fact Mersey Paradise, (Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister, Sally Cinnamon and Where Angels Play had been present and correct on their longer festival setlists prior to Finsbury Park. The guys must have made a conscious decision that they wanted to give us something different on their return to these shores, which is commendable in theory, but at what cost has this shake-up come at!? Criminally the Roses dropped Bye Bye Badman soon after Heaton Park, which is inexcusable when Something's Burning stubbornly remained in the setlist like some kind of virus, but I wonder if the crowd reaction to that masterpiece was muted outside Manchester, or perhaps the band just don't like it very much? For me it's a belter. One omission that absolutely can't be excused though is Sally Cinnamon, as the others can be dismissed as great songs, but ultimately b-sides known only to the serious fan. It's with a somewhat gutted sensation that I notice at the Glasgow Green gig the next weekend that Sally Cinnamon had been reinstated in place of Going Down, and as it was towards the start of the set it would have improved the balance of the show immeasurably. There were still no sign of any new songs, and John Squire had said that they'd be saving them until the album's out, which is a fantastic example that other bands would do well to follow. NME were kind enough to provide a comprehensive review the next Wednesday, although some of the views were simply idiotic, such as a few fans claiming it was better than Heaton Park as the setlist was more balanced. Words can't describe what bollocks that opinion is! Nevertheless, I'd still be happy to go back for more, and maybe next time there'll be a few new songs, and could they perhaps tick that last box please and play The Hardest Thing In The World too?
Setlist (Miles Kane)
Give Up
First Of My Kind
Better Than That
Rearrange
Taking Over
Inhaler
Don't Forget Who You Are
Come Closer
Setlist (Johnny Marr)
The Right Thing Right
Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before
Upstarts
Generate! Generate!
The Messenger
Bigmouth Strikes Again
New Town Velocity
How Soon Is Now?
There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Setlist (PiL)
Four Enclosed Walls
One Drop
This Is Not A Love Song
Reggie Song
Warrior
Flowers Of Romance
Death Disco
Public Image
Rise
Open Up
Setlist (The Stone Roses)
I Wanna Be Adored
Elephant Stone
Ten Storey Love Song
Standing Here
Going Down
Shoot You Down
Fools Gold
Something's Burning
Waterfall
Don't Stop
She Bangs The Drums
Love Spreads
This Is The One
Made Of Stone
Breaking Into Heaven
Elizabeth My Dear
I Am The Resurrection

Mark: 9.0/10