Friday, 19th July, Shed Seven played the historic York Museum Gardens, the first band since Roxy Music in the early seventies.
All images by Nicola Gibson.
Seven years after their comeback album ‘Instant Pleasures’ and six since their riotous show at the Castleford Bowl, Shed Seven returned to their home city with a number-one album (‘A Matter of Time’) under the belts earlier this year. It would be fine to repeat the Castlefield energy, but the stage was set for them to take the throne rather than 2018’s storming of the gates.
Where ‘Instant Pleasures’ and Castleford were an outpouring of emotion, a statement of defiance that the band was back, the opening night in York witnessed the band leave the pack to ascend to indie royalty. No longer the underdog, they glided into the position the sold-out crowd knew they belonged.
The Sheds responded to the proclamation by having Laura McClure, Rowetta, and Pete Doherty reprise their roles (and more) as though this was a Glastonbury 2024 set. Frontman Rick Witter and McClure’s vocals glowed with a folksy charm, releasing a warmth of affection only the likes of Richard Hawley can match. Rowetta’s power was never in doubt but seeing her alongside a frontman who remains in his prime was striking. Resplendent in her Shed Seven robe, her colossal delivery on ‘In Ecstasy’ and ‘Disco Down’ bounced off Witter’s melody like two heavyweight champs regaling in tales of their glorious bouts.
Despite McClure's melody and Rowetta's soul power, Pete Doherty's moments on stage stole the show. Banks’ aching guitars, Witter’s vocals beset with hope, and Doherty simultaneously beleaguered with joy and remorse were iconic. As Doherty sang “we survive, decompartmentalise / And is it any wonder, we live on borrowed time” the sold-out York crowd looked on in a rare moment of silence. The emotion and stature of the gig, of Shed Seven fighting on to be headliners and have a number-one album, and for Doherty to beat his demons coalesced in six minutes of achingly beautiful defiance.
Witter, jovial throughout (ten thirty curfew became a catchphrase), pointed out that back in 1996, in the heady days of labels splashing the cash, they knew they weren’t the chosen ones when their calls for a choir on the classic ‘Bully Boy’ were met with one solitary child. This was rectified by the Huntington School Choir who brought the Britpop classic alive with their euphoric harmonies.
If there was any doubt that the band couldn’t lift this homecoming gig away from the usual excitement of a tour, then the choir, the collaborations, the Liquid Gold Versions, the proposal, the brass, the strings, the joyous free-for-all of ‘Chasing Rainbows’ confined those doubts to history. After the dust had settled, the most striking feature is how the new material lit up the set with the greatest hits backing it up. Then can be no more fitting tribute to a band who have hung in there and kept their self-belief.
Who knows, in another thirty years, we may just get that ‘On Standby’ intro right.