Matt Damon returns to his defining role in this passable reboot of the Bourne franchise
The Black Keys
Alexandra Palace, London, February 11th
The worry with this kind of grit’n’gravel stomp is, of course, that it’ll get somewhat lost in translation from the sweaty confines of the basement to the unforgiving surrounds of the big league enormodomes. In reality – and even battling against Ally Pally’s foreboding rafters – they sound better than we’d even hoped. Like The White Stripes before them (a comparison that’s both inevitable and deserved), Dan and Patrick masterfully fill the space without any need for unwanted polish or cheap tricks.
Entering to a monochrome stage scattered with photo studio-style lights and a gravelly VT of ‘El Camino’ graphics, the first half hour is a relentlessly exciting charge through the more recent end of the band’s arsenal. ‘Howlin’ For You’ stomps in, all nonchalantly sexy southern swagger, ‘Next Girl’ growls with bluesy laments while the glam-rock sass of current single ‘Gold On The Ceiling’ could make a party out of rooms three times this size.
Part two (having ditched their extra onstage bandmates) returns to the bare bones blues of old – the likes of ‘Thickfreakness’ and ‘Your Touch’ providing more visceral thrills and insane fretwork than we’ve seen since those other two decided to call it a day last year – but it’s slow-burning newie ‘Little Black Submarine’ that truly kicks things over into something special. And as rousing singalongs of ‘Tighten Up’ and ‘Lonely Boy’ round off the evening it’s pretty clear that, while it may have taken far too long for The Black Keys to get here, they certainly won’t be leaving any time soon.
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