Richard Ashcroft

So here we are, the privilged few, to bear witness to the return of Richard Ashcroft; A man who’s third solo long-player, ‘Keys to the World’ is talked of in hushed, venerable tones. For legend has it that he’s held these keys in his hand on more than one occasion previously and lost them each time.

The former Verve frontman and dark-shaman of Britpop has never been lacking heavyweight backing from the biggest bands of the day; it’s now ten years since Noel Gallagher proclaimed Ashcroft's "genius" from the sleeve of Morning Glory and fewer months since Chris Martin announced similar sentiment from the stage of Live8. Indeed, on the prior night - the first of these shows at Camden's tardis-like Electric Ballroom - Liam Gallagher is reported to have made his way down Haverstock Hill to help his old friend sing 'The Drugs Don’t Work' - The Verve’s sole number one single.

Not that Ashcroft needed anyone to talk-up his corner, "Fools they do not know the road I’m taking," he blasts in the opening salvo of current single 'Break the Night with Colour', effectively heading off the naysayers at the path and issuing a clarion call to those here tonight that he’s to be taken strictly on his own terms. Disbelievers be warned; Verve comparisons and talk of creative slide will not be tolerated. But therein lies the problem; they’re inevitable, because as a young malcontent Ashcroft wrote songs that defined a generation and fronted a band whose wide-screen take on the possibilities of guitar music opened up the sonic vista. The ubiquitousness of Urban Hymns marked a career high that Ashcroft has found hard to top, and the reluctance of much of his audience to move with him since, places them in an awkward position that though not untenable, is markedly evident throughout tonight's show.

His band, relatively shy in numbers compared to previous tours, is shorn of all but its basic ingredients, and they do a workmanlike - if relatively anonymous - job of serving up a useful musical palette, bolstered by the pre-recorded orchestral and horn flourishes that are integral to much of the material. The special move though; that sonic-boom of a voice, still wrestles you over to Ashcroft’s side. Never has it sounded better, nor been more capable of hammering home the melodic hooks that come to him so easily. It’s just that too often it carries pedestrian workouts which are rendered open to critisism when played alongside leviathan songs like 'Sonnet' and 'The Drugs Don’t Work'. Repeatedly, and not unexpectedly, it is left to these and other pre-solo stalwarts to inject a new impetus into the evening - if not necessarily a change in pace.

Such is his legacy, Ashcroft will have a number of throws of the dice yet and regardless of the results he will draw a devotional element of fans through the weight of his conviction alone. He gives people something to grasp on while the tide rises, and his place amongst songwriters of note is assured. Even after an immeasurable amount of exposure, the ceremonial pomp of set closer ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ is undeniable in its ability to connect, serving as a trigger for communal arm pumping that is almost ecclesiastical in nature. Bathed in light, crab-dancing to the beat, it’s hard to deny Ashcroft his belief in the power of music to heal; to bring people together; to matter. He may not be as he’s recently intimated - Jesus, but as the masses soaking up the modern blues here recognise, he’s still one of the best preachers.