Supergrass

So it’s been ten years since Supergrass first burst through the doors of pop’s consciousness, and how would you want their first decade’s worth to be remembered? The 22-20s do their ripped-denim best to make up for Cathy Davey’s sick leave, despite starting with their best song (‘Why Don’t You Do It For Me?’, if you’re interested, even with the dubious gender politics) and only scraping above the quality bar when the bottleneck comes out. They’ve proven that they’re better than Jet, but that’s hardly the toughest mountain of leathers to climb now, is it?

How are Supergrass represented for one hundred and twenty months of sonic delight, I pretend that I hear you cry? Well, if you turn up for the first half-dozen songs it’ll be the mop-haired psycho-delic merchants, laying somewhere between Syd and Sid, between a time when the first wave of Britpop still had a discernible pulse and when T-Rex became a major influence, i.e. circa ‘In It For The Money’. Indeed, starting a gig with ‘In It For The Money’ followed by ‘Richard 111’ is quite possible the most exhilarating way that the ‘Grass, or many other bands for that matter, could have opened a gig, even if it does follow the tracklist of said album. Similarly ‘Mary’ mooches about with moody magnificence, and proves early on that no, they didn’t leave their prowess behind in 1998.

If you turn up for the two songs that follow, it’ll be the troupe that followed that ‘British’ school of pop sensibilities, with Gaz and Mick sat on a plush leather sofa either side of a stuffed cat to do acoustic, chant-along performances of ‘Late In The Day’ and – who would have thunk it? - ‘Caught By The Fuzz’. Soon after though it’s back to the all-out sugar-fuelled euphoria, ‘Sun Hits The Sky’ reaching as high as is suggested and, although I confess to have had my inhibitions, a surprisingly thrilling play-through of _‘Alright’ _. That’ll be their drive-about-in-a-camper-van-roaring-lyrics-at-implausible-levels-you-cheeky-Northern-Monkees phase, then, and gosh it was fun.

The encore, though, with its unexpected but not unpleasant round-up of ‘Mansize Rooster’ and ‘Sitting Up Straight’, ensure that you’ll remember Supergrass as a group who can prompt sweat to drip from the walls – partly to do with the sweetly riotous tunes, partly to do with the volume of shaggy barnets in the crowd. As their badges proclaim, they’ll always be “Everyone’s Second Favourite Band”. And that’s not bad going for the first decade.