If anyone still thinks Shed Seven are simply riding a wave of Britpop nostalgia, they clearly weren’t at The Piece Hall on Friday night.
On paper, a band celebrating the 30th anniversary of A Maximum High could easily feel like a trip down memory lane. In reality, it felt more like a reminder that some songs refuse to grow old, even if the people singing them occasionally wake up with sore knees (myself included).
The evening kicked off with local lads Guest List, who had the unenviable task of entertaining a crowd more interested in finding the shortest bar queue than watching a support act. To their credit, they won plenty over with a lively set that suggested they’re a band worth keeping an eye on.
Seb Lowe followed and raised the temperature further. With a confident performance and plenty of local support behind them, they provided exactly what a support act should: enough quality to grab your attention without making you forget who you’re there to see.
By the time Shed Seven arrived, the Piece Hall was rammed. The beautiful old courtyard has become one of the country’s premier live music venues, but on this particular evening it felt less like a historic landmark and more like the world’s largest indie nightclub.
Playing A Maximum High in full could have been a risky move. Thankfully, the album has aged considerably better than most of the haircuts from the era. “Getting Better”, “Magic Streets” and “On Standby” still sounded sharp, while Rick Witter remains one of the most naturally likeable frontmen around. Part rock star, part pub raconteur, he spent much of the evening chatting to the crowd as though he’d bumped into a few thousand mates on a night out.
The real magic arrived when the band dipped into the hits. “Disco Down” got the first huge roar of the night, “Ocean Pie” was greeted like an old friend, and “Going For Gold” turned the entire venue into a mass karaoke session. Not that anyone seemed to mind. In fact, there were moments when Witter barely needed to sing at all.
Then came “Chasing Rainbows”. Predictably. Inevitably. Brilliantly.
Thousands of voices took over, echoing around the ancient stone walls as pints were raised skyward and strangers became temporary best friends for four minutes. It was the sort of communal moment that reminds you why people still spend fortunes on concert tickets instead of just listening to Spotify at home.
Words and Photos by Jonathan Cohen
