At the fourth time of asking, Ash finally get to tour last year’s Greatest Hits album, Teenage Wildlife. Fortunately, the album was ostensibly to commemorate 25 years of the trio but with their debut album celebrating it’s silver anniversary this year, the celebrations are still valid.
Not that they wouldn’t be anyway. Hugely under-rated as a singles band, Ash have long specialised in pop music disguised as rock, which tonight’s setlist aptly conveys. Hit after hit, with a few exceptions.
Launching into early single Goldfinger, for those of a certain vintage it actually generates the (possibly unwelcome) feeling of teenage angst, which builds until the final note in line with the song’s structure. It also works well as an opener in that it plays to each member’s strengths; bassist Mark Hamilton struts and cavorts, doing his best to steal the limelight from the evergreen Tim Wheeler (looking more like Peter Pan as the years go by) who, with trademark flying V guitar present and correct, delivers his not insignificant axeman chops. Meanwhile age (even though they are all in their early 40s) has done nothing to compromise Rick McMurray’s beast-like clattering on the drums. For a trio (no touring musicians), they still pack one hell of a punch.
When the chorus on second number Wildsurf kicks in, it’s a blitzkrieg on the ears which then rarely lets up over the following 90 minutes. Swiftly followed by Shining Light (still a radio favourite, 20 years on) and Walking Barefoot, the early part of the gig could be a festival set on it’s own. The swoon-worthy A Life Less Ordinary, which wasn’t included on any album and is therefore easily forgotten, reveals itself to be one of the ‘lost’ gems of the era. Oh Yeah, which actually felt nostalgic at the time of it’s release in 1996, is almost unbearably so and, when followed by Sometimes, the wistfulness threatens to bring everyone to tears.
After such an early onslaught, it’s inevitable that the quality standards dip somewhat, and indeed the set does go a bit awry in the middle. Arcadia, the only track lifted from the A-Z experiment of 2009/10, has stood the test of time but is perhaps unfamiliar to many in attendance. Later tracks such as Confessions In The Pool, Let’s Ride and Buzzkill suffer a similar fate (although the latter’s lyric ‘summer is here, summer is gone,’ feels prescient given the shorter festival season) but, because of the band’s poptastic sensibilities, they all leave an impact despite being over in a flash. A sad indictment of Ash’s status, but also the risk you run with a Greatest Hits set.
Like Shining Light before it, Cocoon is another apt example of their pop leanings, both tracks featuring key changes for the final chorus. In contrast, debut single Kung Fu is extended (at just over two minutes, this isn’t difficult) to incorporate a gnarly, 1970s rock mid-section. Meanwhile, the closing track of the main set, 2004’s Orpheus, deals with breaking free of dark times (‘A new day it is dawning, I feel the pain is gone’,) which once again is unerringly topical, albeit with a verse that is a bit more mundane (that of a failed relationship). But still, given the joy in the room, it feels cathartic, complemented by a full band workout held together by McMurray’s incandescent drumming.
Their longstanding cover of The Only Ones’ Another Girl, Another Planet, the never-more-rocky Girl From Mars, early track Lose Control and Burn Baby Burn, a final slap around the chops before the crowd is sent packing, make up the encore. For the entirety of the four tracks, the moshpit duly obliges.
Incredibly tight, as professionals with a quarter of a century’s experience should be, Ash duly deliver. They never wore the title of Britpop well by virtue of being just too heavy. Ironically, they have a punk delivery which is more powerful than most of today’s generation too, but with the added bonus of melodies. In this era of nostalgia, no-one is more worthy of a re-evaluation than Ash. But then they’ve never split up, so they likely aren’t eligible for one.
After the gig, McMurray took to Twitter to declare the gig as ‘shit’ for technical reasons. Those of us in attendance would argue otherwise.