Review: Thin Lizzy @ Manchester Apollo


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This band doesn’t die easily. They’ve been surviving line-up changes for 40 odd years, and it’s kept them sounding fresh and alive and dangerous. Now the immortal Scott Gorham returns with Thin Lizzy, Mark-God-Knows-What-Number-We’re-Up-To, and you’d hardly know they’d been away.

It’s not hard to guess there’s a classic rock act on tonight; some purely unscientific statistics (gathered by turning around in a 360 degree circle in the middle of the stalls) reveal that this audience is comprised of 50% middle-aged original fans, 50% young bucks brought up on Greatest Hits CDs, and 90% male manly men.

The sound certainly seems geared toward the testosterone in the room, playing the likes of Killer On The Loose‘ and Massacre fast and heavy-handed. Are You Ready’ is thundered through at break-neck speed. ‘Jailbreak gets the same haphazard treatment, as the infamous “Breakout!” segment is replaced with a mess of confusing noise.

Not a great first half, but by now we’re narrowing down the problem. Frontman Ricky Warwick has a guitar for some reason, and it’s muddying up the sound a treat. Somebody take it off him.

If this sounds like a Phil Lynott fan resenting his replacement, guess again. Anyone would be better fronting this band. John Sykes did a terrific job on tour with them some years back, for instance. It’s not even that Warwick is trying to be Lynott. Sounds like he’d much prefer to be James Hetfield.

Is it just him, though? The whole set feels somewhat unbalanced. It’s less ‘Live & Dangerous‘, more ‘Live & Stepping On Your Head’. As great as it is to hear these songs come alive on stage again, it almost feels like going through the motions. That’s a terrible thing to say, especially when long-time lead guitarist Scott Gorham is playing his heart out every minute of every unforgettable song here. They all are really, but seeing the perpetual grin on that man’s face, you know this is his dream come true. He put this line-up together. He truly loves playing with this band. But they need to be so much more than a tribute act.

By the time barnstormer ‘Don’t Believe A Word rolls along, the band are hitting their stride. The guitar harmonies, star attraction of the Lizzy sound, are coming to the fore at last. ‘Still In Love With You sees the band rein in their over-indulgences with a magnificent slow blues, showing off that invincible twin guitar attack. It’s here that newcomer Vivian Campbell reveals an elegant side to his guitar soloing; old hand Darren Wharton gets to strut his stuff with him on the keys, setting the mood with smooth, eloquent flourishes.

This second half is picking up the slack admirably; out come the fan favourites Whiskey In The Jar‘ and ‘Waiting For An Alibi‘, given that signature swing by sticksman Brian Downey. Whatever the first half was, there was no stopping yourself from dancing to those tunes, and Downey, the engine room of this band, doesn’t let us down once. He pushes his luck with a drum solo, but as the man who’s supplied the roll to Lizzy’s rock since 1969, he’s earned those sort of indulgences.



Cowboy Song surprises nobody at all by seguing into ‘The Boys Are Back In Town‘, but then, that’s the popular appeal of this tour, promoting a series of back catalogue reissues. Petty gripes aside, these are incredible songs by incredible musicians, and their biggest fans haven’t heard Lizzy play live for a long, long time. Or they were born a couple of generations late and they’ve never heard a rendition of ‘The Boys Are Back In Townoutside of a Dad Rock compilation album.

Either way, there’s no reason at all for Thin Lizzy to take risks on this tour. You sort of wish they would though, just to see what other forms this music could take. As a band with ambitions to record new material, they’ll need to work on this live sound if they intend to conquer the world all over again. The return of fire-spitting, cloud-splitting guitar harmonies is one way. Ditching the frontman who thinks he’s in Metallica would be another. Or even both.

Just a suggestion.

(Simon Moore)


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