You would be forgiven for thinking it was 1995, not 2025, in Manchester right now. Posters have started popping up across the city trailing the Oasis reunion; the band will soon turn Heaton Park into a sea of Stone Island parkas for a string of boisterous nights. Just a few weeks back, Robbie Williams stopped off as part of his Britpop tour and Pulp strutted into the city centre. This weekend, the Hacienda Classical is set to bring its orchestral rave to Castlefield Bowl. Talk about acid flashbacks, eh?
But last night, it was The Charlatans who were back in town for a homecoming gig, at the same 8,000-capacity arena. The ’90s outfit are from Cheshire and formed in the West Midlands in 1988 – but their baggy sound was so Madchester that they’re often grouped together with the likes of Inspiral Carpets, Happy Mondays and Stone Roses (they’re more jangly and trippy than the Gallagher brothers — just this week, Jason Williams of Sleaford Mods said: “The first time I heard Oasis, on The Word, I thought, “This is shit. It sounds like the Charlatans.”)
Recently, frontman Tim Burgess has carved out his own schtick as a music industry champion. “Tim’s Twitter Listening Party” – started during lockdown – brought together indie-heads and later became a podcast series. In May, his Merch Market project, also held in Manchester, offered bands the chance to sell their tees commission-free.
The Charlatans rattled through all their hits (Photo: Caron Malcolm)On he bounded at 9pm, dressed in occlusion-inducing leather pants, a stripy rainbow knit, black jacket and oversized shades. And, of course, he still rocks his signature cropped haircut. You know the one, like it’s been cut using a pudding bowl and dyed with vanilla Angel Delight, and now returned from bleach blonde to a dirty brown. At 58 he’s still got the unsappable energy of a golden retriever with a permanent case of the zoomies, amping up the crowd with pumped fists and a cherubic grin.
His signature, melodic drawl instantly pierced through the hallucinogenic “Forever” and a crowd of quinquagenarians gripping double pints went mad, high on nostalgia. Others in track jackets and bucket hats bopped their heads on the grassy banks. A string of hits followed, including the irresistibly nasal “North Country Boy”, which warmed up the crowd’s vocal cords.
The radio-friendly “The Only One I Know” was, for a few people here, definitely the only one they knew. And other tunes – like the gritty “Toothache” – turned into wig-outs, lacking the punchier hooks of some of the deeper cuts. But with seven Top 10 singles under their belts, The Charlatans are far from one hit wonders – and they rattled through almost all of them.
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The body of their sound comes from the band’s vital organ: keyboardist Tony Rogers channelled the powerhouse style of the band’s original keys player, the late Rob Collins, and his successor, the late Martin Duffy; his psychedelic oscillations elevated everything to a new level. A couple of new tunes – “We Are Love” and “Many A Day A Heartache” – fell a little flat, but Burgess was clearly aware of the throwback quality of the night, tentatively throwing a thumbs up and a thumbs down to the crowd to try to gauge the reception.
The vibe was stratospheres away, of course, from the mania that Oasis will inspire in the city in a week. But it was a reminder of the magic that that blissed-out Madchester sound can conjure when done proper. When closer “Sproston Green” built to its hazy crescendo, a reef of hands reached into the past. There’s no better time machine than a load of people in a field (or, in this case, a giant bowl) heading back through the wormhole together.
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