The View played Bristol on November 17th.
As has been the case for the last 18 years, the crowd need no encouragement to chant ‘The View Are On Fire.’ Indeed, the temptation to play on it in every review the band receive is palpable. It’s almost too easy.
Yet The View’s reaction to the chant borders on indifference or embarrassment. Towards the end of tonight’s set, Kyle Falconer thanks the crowd and states his appreciation, but one can’t help but wonder if it’s something of an albatross for them.
Otherwise it’s business as usual for the Dundonians. Rattling through an 18-song set in just 75 minutes, it’s a high-octane skirt through their career, from the thunderous opening shot of Glass Smash to the whimsical Typical Time, tacked on at the very end, all delivered with a devil-may-care passion.
The band have – rightly or wrongly – acquired a reputation as ramshackle but that’s ill-informed, with a resolute tautness throughout. Sunday (their best and most underrated song from 2011’s Bread & Circuses) includes several false endings and a rock out but no displacement.
The gig does feel as if it’s teetering on the edge of chaos, but that’s primarily due to a buoyant crowd. Earlier in the set, Comin’ Down segues into Wasted Little DJs seamlessly, the latter featuring one of many displays of proficiency from guitarist Pete Reilly, looking fetching in tartan trousers and leather jacket.
If you weren’t aware, The View hail from north of the border and as such, Kyle Falconer is belying the dank Southern weather dressed in shorts and t-shirt…in mid-November. Sometimes cliches are cliches for a reason. A combination of their broad accents and the usual issues of clarity over a PA means that much of the patter goes unheard, although Falconer’s impressive West Country accent (after bravely taking a sup from a punter’s pint) raises a big laugh.
While the familiar material is unsurprisingly well received, tracks like Underneath The Lights still rollick along aggressively and intensely, but the newer material packs an equally big wallop; Neon Lights has a shouted chorus which no doubt helps, and Falconer has to prep the crowd on the chorus of Allergic To Mornings to ensure a sing-along (successfully), but on the energetically-captivating The Wonder Of It All he stretches his not-inconsiderable larynx to breaking point, while Pete Reilly’s (their secret weapon) rip-roaring solo on Feels Like is a set highlight.
There’s an atmosphere of bonhomie throughout, the band clearly having put their infamous troubles earlier in the year to bed. Falconer and Kieren Webster swap instruments and stage positions on old favourite Skag Trendy before the singer attempts to explain the concept of a double A-side (with next track The Don, a sea shanty long before it was cool) but gets tongue tied to the amusement of his band mates. Falconer later gets confused as to which song is next in the set, with equal mirth.
After Falconer sits on the drum stage for a spirited rendition of Face For The Radio, The View rattle through Sunday, Same Jeans (before which Falconer asks for the crowd’s patience, joking that it had been written on the bus the night before) with some added Louie Louie for good measure, a deafening Superstar Tradesman and a primal, nearly feral Shock Horror. Then, as a bonus, the 38-second Typical Time to close out the show.
A sizzling (cough cough) rock ‘n’ roll show.
