The opening blast of “The Bartender and the Thief” (which ends the main set) takes me right back to 1999. A show in the spring of that year just before the second album came out, a time when you knew – you just knew – they were going to do something special. They were at the peak of their energy, the core of something huge, destined for greatness.
And here they are, getting on for 30 years later, beginning an arena tour with the first of two sold-out shows in the Second City. They’re back again in ten days because they sold this one out so quickly, and what happens in the encore tonight is a reminder of exactly why.
They open the encore with “100MPH”, a burst of sheer adrenaline that shows exactly how sharp they still are, before “C’est La Vie” brings a loose, joyful swagger to the finish. It’s the right kind of energy to close an arena night.
But even before that, they show repeatedly why they remain an arena band. Connection, more than anything, is how you get to arenas and stay there: songs that feel like they belong to everyone present.
Rewind to 8:45pm and the set kicks off with “Vegas Two Times”, followed by “I Wanna Get Lost With You” and the first of the heavyweight hits, “Have a Nice Day”. A new-album moment arrives with “There’s Always Going To Be Something”, but it’s “Do You Feel My Love?” that really stands out. It’s darker, heavier, with Kelly Jones’ guitar snarling while Adam Zindani matches him stride for stride. “Superman” lands the same way: brooding, powerful, built for buildings of this size.
A different shade comes with “Geronimo”, its sax part adding atmosphere and lift — another sign they’re still evolving two and a half decades in.
“Maybe Tomorrow” offers something gentler, and then the new “Colours of October”, speaking of new beginnings and effectively drawing a line under the first half, if you will.
The second act begins with the debut-era classic “Local Boy in the Photograph”, nostalgia hitting immediately. “Mr. Writer” pulses, a reminder of their songwriting prowess and their knack for crafting songs that resonate across generations. “Mr and Mrs Smith” deals with an affair, while “Fly Like an Eagle” feels vast and cinematic.
After the encore’s one-two punch comes the final punctuation mark: “Dakota”. Not a comma. A full stop. A victory lap.
Yet the moment that lingers isn’t the noise or the production. It’s when Kelly Jones pauses with his ukulele, just before “I Wouldn’t Believe Your Radio”, to remember starting the band with Stuart Cable (RIP), rehearsing in a working men’s club in Cwmaman, hauling their gear in a squeaky trolley. It’s a mighty long way down rock ’n’ roll, as someone once wrote, and you get the impression Stereophonics have never forgotten where they came from – but they’ve always known where they were going.
Tonight’s mix is polished, the performance is supreme, and the quality is the sort that only comes from decades of experience, graft and love. A band still doing what they do best – but doing it like it matters.
