 | | Razorlight (pic: Karen McBride) |
God only knows about the latter, but the former is clearly an influence on a band that’ve outgrown the shabby chic of their seedy debut and developed, in a freakish growth spurt, into giant monsters of rock. The show opens with a bounding In the Morning and soon after comes a shimmering rendition of the summery Golden Touch, its guitar part still strangely reminiscent of Eels. There’s a slight sense from the crowd’s reaction that Razorlight have somehow managed to acquire a fan base who aren’t too familiar with their early stuff – in much the same way as Everything Must Go-era Manics did – which is no mean feat for a band who’ve only just released their second album. Mid-set, America is met with bliss. It typifies the new direction of the band and uses what might be called ‘The Coldplay Technique’ of writing songs: the lyrics are either (a) evocatively sparse or (b) silly and meaningless (delete as applicable) but sound great when backed by brilliant music. Borrell’s yelped "oh, oh, oh… oh" is instantly anthemic.  | | Razorlight (pic: Karen McBride) |
Razorlight’s most successful songs are those that offend the least number of sensibilities; but whether leaving a hole at the heart of a song onto which the listener can project their own feelings – as the massive audience here do tonight without exception – is a happy accident or lyrical genius is a bewildering question. Later in the set, another icon of stadium rock is evoked. Borrell prances purposefully and struts his way around the stage, shirtless, posturing with the mic stand, and issues protracted bursts of awesome vocal power which he invites the crowd to mimic in unison. It’s pure Freddie Mercury and it’s pretty cheesy. Still, you’ve got to admire a man who can hold the same note at 400 decibels for the best part of a minute. For the encore, a relentless Stumble And Fall rips through the hall and the night is polished off with a belting Somewhere Else. In essence, Razorlight attempt the tightrope between cliché and class and somehow, fantastically, they don’t fall off. | 
