The Zutons

Virtually unheard of outside their native West London 12 months ago, the sporadic rise of Larrikin Love grows with every awe-inspiring live show. Take here for example, where they take the stage pretty much straight after the doors are opened and punters stream into the venue, many of whom are both unsure of what to expect, or indeed who they actually are.

By the third song, a rabble rousing 'Six Queens', a flailing moshpit has emerged in front of the stage that's spreading in all directions with the promiscuity of a chihuahua on heat. Funnily enough the band don't seem to know what to make of it all, offering few words inbetween songs other than a curt "thanks" at irregular intervals. Mind you, when you've a collection of songs as good as these - indeed take your pick from the whole of their repertoire and you've got potential hit after potential hit - who needs pointless chit-chat when the music speaks for itself, thank you very much.

Lesser artists would be quaking in their boots at having to follow that. Indeed, some would probably have given up and gone home halfway through Larrikin Love's set, but with The Zutons, it seems to inspire them to scale even greater heights of perfection.

Long gone are the days of being compared to The Commitments with a more aesthetically pleasing Lisa Simpson clone on sax. Instead, what we see before our very eyes is one of the most accomplished live colectives currently gracing these very shores, something which I doubt many people would have predicted two years ago when the band were propping up bills for the likes of Dogs Die In Hot Cars.

Not only is there a newly-discovered air of confidence about them, but they also appear to have developed some of their older songs into full-on, psychedelic ragga-meets-ska epics, such as 'You Will You Won't', which now resembles a presposterous Zappa-meets-Floyd-in-Count Basie's studio skat-opera. Likewise with the newer material, which may have seemed a little underwhelming on the first few listens of 'Tired Of Hanging Around', but suddenly comes together in a colossal manner during their live show. 'How Does It Feel?' is a regaling northern soul groover in a similar vein to Wigan Casino staple 'Hey Shaloney', while the booze-fuelled sentiments of 'Its The Little Things We Do' and 'Hello Conscience' could be lavacious odes to what is rapidly turning into a great night out for everyone fortunate enough to be present this evening.

Whereas some bands become victims of their own success, The Zutons appear to have embraced it with open arms, although as with everything, there is always a down side, and the 1000th barrage of "Get your tits out for the lads" aimed at saxophone player Abi Harding eventually causes genial frontman Dave McCabe to tell the morons to "Shut the fuck up!", before adding "the tits are already out - down there in front of me!", pointing at the antagonising loudmouths as he speaks, which surprisingly does the trick finally shuts them up.

As with fellow Deltasonic visionaries The Coral, The Zutons live experience now feels like an event of sorts, and none more so than in the closing eight minute instrumental epic that mixes and mashes more genres than the Guinness Book Of British Hit Singles and sees the band swap instruments, chords, beats and any other musical term you wish to enamour yourself with accordingly. Having spent years being labelled as a band with potential, The Zutons have finally come of age, and even more impressively, on the most difficult stage of all - the public one.

The final words though, rest with Edward Larrikin. "Grab your A-Z, flick in the back and plan world domination!" It seems The Zutons already have.

Photos by Mark Moore