MUSIC
Louis Tomlinson ★★★★
John Cain Arena, October 20
The screams that greet Louis Tomlinson give me a contact high. Die-hard fans have legged it to the barrier and thrust stage. The word “Lemonade” flashes on-screen, towering over Tomlinson and his five-piece band. He cuts an amiable, Gallagher-type figure in a puffy red jacket and jeans. Until he’s briefly engulfed in a confetti explosion.
Music videos are composed live, faces projected dystopia-large with film effects, high-contrast overlays or psychedelic sunflowers, with colour-saturated stage lights and even a synth-laser show for Broken Bones.
It’s a leap from the opening act, Rum Jungle, the kind of Aussie indie group you play driving to the beach on P-plates with your mates.
Tomlinson gets somewhat swallowed in the production. The mixing does no favours, his piping, Arctic Monkeys-style vocals no match for thundering drums in songs like The Spark. He’s often lost in backing harmonies and the word-faithful crowd, unless it’s the pared-back cover of the Foo Fighters’ My Hero.
But Tomlinson’s impeccable band shines. Oozing rock, they unify eclectic leaps from funk pop and acoustic ballads to nostalgic indie/Britpop like the Oasis-esque Saturdays and Franz Ferdinand-style dance riffs in Out of my System. Keyboard skips between plinking piano and glimmering synth as the guitarists and bassist pace like tigers to tumbling, chest-shaking beats and rip blistering solos.
Tomlinson performs a pop persona perfectly. Gracious and grateful. Hand on heart, pointing to swooning fans. His grinning, Yorkshire-accented commentary is lightly peppered with profanities: “Loud as you fooken’ can!”
In return, the One Direction is utterly adored. For One Direction’s Night Changes, a sea of phones rise, recording intently. Tomlinson’s grim-faced guards have to pull him back from the barrier when ladies get grabby in the encore. I only wonder if he regretted the jacket in the fervent, feminine body heat filling John Cain Arena.
Reviewed by Kosa Monteith
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