Two years and two days ago, MV sat in this room and watched Deacon Blue. Back then, they were essentially touring their Greatest Hits, and the atmosphere was euphoric — to be fair, when they launch into “Fergus Sings The Blues” early, the place explodes. But things have moved on.
First, the band have just released a brilliant record, “The Great Western Road.” Second, they lost their founding member James Prime in the summer. Both of these things shape the evening.
First, the music. The band are clearly — and rightly — proud of their new material. You can tell by just how much of it they play. From the start, the laid-back fun of “Turn Up Your Radio!” and “Up Hope” makes it obvious this is a band who want to look forward.
And yet, there’s a reflective side too. Even the new album looks back at their lives in Glasgow. And, of course, there are the old songs. “Raintown” is a beauty — expansive and clever — but the evening feels completely contemporary at the same time.
Not least because Ricky Ross is willing to address the modern world. He takes care to welcome everyone before “This Is What We Can Do” — “whether you’ve lived here all your life or arrived last week from anywhere in the world” — and the new songs sound like they belong in 2025.
And then there’s Prime. Their friend. Their brother. Ross is visibly moved, admitting they weren’t sure they’d even carry on. In the end, they settle for a touching tribute in “How We Remember It,” which sees his cap placed on the drum kit.
Let’s not forget either that Deacon Blue are a magnificent band. Their harmony vocals are unmatched. Of course, Lorraine McIntosh and Ross should have a natural synergy, but together they are sensational.
Their ability to write character songs is equally strong. “Wages Day” or “Your Town” are rooted in their area, while the title track of the new record explores the hope ingrained in them, and the possibility of escape. That they weave all this in with Woody Guthrie’s “I Ain’t Got No Home” feels typical.
“Late ’88” adds a disco edge, but even better, old videos of the band are projected on the big screen, giving the line “didn’t we do it well” even more resonance.
And here’s the thing: there’s only one way you reach arenas and sustain a 40-year career — you write marvellous songs that people connect with. “Real Gone Kid” and the utterly glorious “Dignity” prove it. That song, which always struck me as a reflection on the dignity Thatcher’s politics stripped away, might be even more relevant today.
But a band who have always celebrated the good in people with warmth and humility were always going to end on an uplifting note. “People Come First” does exactly that, an antidote to the division we see daily on the news.
And then comes the gorgeous ending: a cover of Warren Zevon’s “Keep Me In Your Heart,” hanging in the air and giving everyone a moment of reflection while celebrating a wonderful song.
As a metaphor for the evening, it feels perfect.
This wasn’t a classic, bombastic arena show — but it was everything that makes Deacon Blue so good.
