Live Review: The Streets, The Avalanches DJs

The Streets will always bring back memories of Big Day Out (RIP). The smell of dust, sunburnt skin, sweat-smeared sunglasses, and somewhere in the distance a chatty English guy bouncing around on a stage. Out the front of Festival Hall a line coils down the rainy path as punters snap up last minute tickets, and it is quite surprising to see the number of fans who were likely beginning primary school when The Streets hit in the early '00s. It also seems the entirety of England’s expat community is here, swapping stories and drags of spliffs as The Avalanches’ DJ set booms into the street. People-watching in the line to enter the venue, this writer begins to wonder what the collective noun for parkas, the jacket de rigueur this winter, is – a Gallagher of parkas, perhaps? 

The Avalanches drop a sneaky taste of Since I Left You, a song with inbuilt powers of nostalgia and wistfulness, before they leave us for the night. 

The GA is packed and the stands rapidly fill for The Streets as the house lights fall. Mike Skinner hits the stage guns blazing. He’s barely a minute into Turn The Page when he is up on the barrier, testing the resolve of outstretched punters' hands as he raps over the crowd. Let’s Push Things Forward follows, giving vocalist Kevin Mark Trail his first of many moments to shine - indeed as the set progresses Trail’s vocals provide a steadying hand to Skinner’s chaos. 

Skinner douses the crowd with the first of many bottles of champagne, though he is unimpressed with the vintage he has been provided, “I think this is from the Hunter Valley anyway, we don’t fuck with that.” Don’t Mug Yourself has everyone from the stands to the pit bouncing along, as Skinner delivers spot-on vocals interspersed with life advice slotted in so seamlessly it takes a minute to realise that it isn’t some sort of lost chorus. When an audience member angles for a selfie, Skinner booms, “Is that going on Instagram? No one will know how many people like it! Everyone, find that guy and like him. No one will know, you just have to enjoy your life!” to roars of laughter. Could Well Be In, with its intricate retelling of a first date, is timeless, and there isn’t a single person in the house not shouting the chorus along with Trail.

For all of the banter, and there is a lot of banter, Skinner and the band never miss a beat. They’re effortlessly tight. “Can you get me a real bottle of champagne? Like this, but real?” barks the singer during Has It Come to This?, before handing the opened bottle to the punter who helped him stay steady against the barrier earlier. Later in the show, he also trades a bottle of champagne for his shoe, from which he became separated while crowdsurfing. Speaking of crowdsurfing, Skinner muses that “women didn’t crowd surf because in the back of their minds they thought 'I could be sexually assaulted'” before opening up the floor to a glorious wave of female surfers. It’s a beautiful moment, and one that won’t be forgotten by this writer any time soon. Dry Your Eyes slows things down, and allows us to catch our collective breath before the mayhem about to hit.

By the final 15 minutes of the show, the crowd is frothing. The two guys seated nearby who have spent the majority of the show consuming less and less discreetly disguised keys of white powder are now in full gurn mode, standing on their chairs and fist-pumping. The band smash out Grim Sickers' Open The Till, on which Skinner guests, and his solo track Your Wave God’s Wave God – both deep, vibey tunes. They deliver the killer blows with Weak Become Heroes, and Blinded By The Lights and then let the crowd go absolutely apeshit to Fit But You Know It. 

Tonight was a welcome reminder of Mike Skinner’s brilliance, not just as a lyricist, but also as a showman. If you’re headed to Splendour this weekend, don’t mug yourself - go see The Streets.