The sight of James in full flight really is something to behold. The Manchester veterans were six songs in to a magnificent show when trumpeter Andy Diagram, whose joyous coils of noise are key to lifting and enriching James, emerged within the crowd on the second tier near the back of the arena, swirling his instrument as the lengthy, trance-like “Sound” ascended to a dizzying peak. That sort of thing – exuberant, unifying, musically adventurous mass connection – is difficult to get right.
James have made it a speciality. Such displays help explain why, having ridden the peaks and troughs of indie obscurity, cults, Madchester, 90’s chart success, drugs, splits, comebacks and a late-career creative revival, James are arguably more popular than ever. Recent 18th studio album Yummy was their first ever studio album to reach number one; a hometown show at Manchester’s ghastly, woefully organised new arena Co-op Live was the penultimate stop of the country’s biggest venues.
And what a unique proposition they are: a fluid eight-piece ensemble, bolstered with the occasional backing singers, as capable of open-hearted anthems (a soaring “She’s a Star”) as the likes of 1994 curio “Jam J”, a metallic oddity that saw Booth sing through a megaphone. Fresh material was also brought to life impressively. A series of solid enough post-2007 reformation albums have given way to a much superior run of records, of which Yummy is the latest.
This being James, and given B.
