On Saturday night, Manchester Academy threw open its doors to welcome homegrown icon Shaun Ryder and Black Grape, for a celebration three decades in the making. Thirty years on since their chart-topping debut album, It’s Great When You’re Straight…Yeah! a record that defined an era and still pulses with attitude today.
Black Grape have always been a genre-bending force, blending funk, hip-hop, dance, psychedelia, and rock into a sound that’s uniquely theirs. Saturday promised a full spread of Madchester flavours, a vibrant tasting menu of rhythm and rebellion, spiced with the unfiltered naughtiness of Shaun Ryder and his signature Class A groove.
Dodgy have been doing a tremendous job hitting the road alongside Black Grape, warming rooms with a Britpop glow before Ryder and Kermit have taken the headline slot. They were fantastic in Nottingham, but even better in Manchester. You can read their review in full in another ‘We Shoot Music’ Post. This review, however, belongs to Black Grape.
For me, Saturday was far more than ‘just another gig to shoot n review’. I was genuinely excited because the first and last time I saw Black Grape live was at V Festival in ’96. I was 18, a free-spirited confused mess and a full-blown music junkie looking for the next fix. I think with some bands, I was more interested in availability rather than the quality of the ‘supply’, soaking up the vibe of every band without a thought for the mechanics behind the sound (until Richard Ashcroft but that’s a different story in another review). Back then, it was all about the rush of rhythm and the chaos of the crowd.
Tonight, it’s still about those things but now I’m old(er) I find myself not just hearing the music but now actually listening. On Saturday, I found myself noticing the precision of the arrangements, the interplay between groove and melody, the way Shaun Ryder’s vocal phrasing locks into the rhythm section. Black Grape are a great example that music isn’t just about energy, it’s about architecture, built on timing, tone, and texture. And personality of course.
And if there’s anything Black Grape have, its energy and personality.
They’ve always been a genre-bending force, blending funk, hip-hop, dance, psychedelia, and rock into a sound that’s uniquely theirs. I mean, if someone said “who do they sound like?” What the hell do you say? and THAT is what I loved about them from day one.
Get onto the gig, Shavorne… Ok – It’s Manchester, watching a Manchester band. And it’s Shaun Ryder. You already know what the crowd looks like without me waffling crap with flowery metaphors. It was raw, loud, and exactly what you’d expect: Typical Manc chaos in its natural habitat.
Around half nine, the band were lead onto the stage by Shaun and Kermit, drinks in hand, and casually announcing they’d both been struck down with the lurgy.
Dodgy and BG had both been struggling and I think it was Nigel Clark that renamed it “The illness Tour” when they played in Notts.
They still promised the crowd a night to remember. Admittedly, Shaun and Kermit both looked a little worn, yet once the music kicked in, their energy never dipped for a second.
Shaun’s surreal and playful lyrics paired perfectly with Kermit’s rap delivery, producing that distinctive and irreverent sound I remember. Shaun’s chemistry with Kermit was heartwarming. Looking like either one of them could collapse at any minute, Shaun playfully teased Kermit, “do you think you can manage the next one?” There’s something endearing about ‘seasoned’ performers who, even when clearly this unwell, set aside their own comfort to give the audience exactly what they came for. That determination speaks volumes and it’s what turned an ordinary night into an unforgettable experience for hundreds of people. Puts things into perspective when you remember Morrissey once walked off stage because he felt a breeze that didn’t meet his personal thermostat settings, but I guess that’s rock n roll for you, one’s worried about the wind, the other’s blowing the roof off. And blow the roof off they did.
The set opened with Reverend Black Grape, and from the first bassline, the room was locked into that unmistakable Madchester groove. The band’s sound is a dense, multi-layered storm. Shaun’s unmistakably laid-back drawl weaving effortlessly through Kermit’s razor-sharp counterpoints. Watching Kermit was pure joy, contorted funk-faces, slick moves, and lyrical wit pouring hip-hop and funk into the room by the truckload. And he did it all whilst battling a voice that was ready any minute to get its hat n coat on.
Every track feels like it’s been meticulously built, with just a few loose screws to keep that party vibe alive and the crowd on its toes. The setlist was a buffet of classics, just as expected. The shows leaned heavily on the debut album, and rightly so. “Reverend Black Grape” and “Kelly’s Heroes” were seismic moments, sending everyone into euphoric singalongs. I made my way through the thousand-strong crowd to grab a few shots from the back (photos not drinks), and honestly, it was magical, every single person was moving. The energy didn’t fade the further I walked, if anything, it grew. Groups of friends dancing together, strangers sharing the moment, beer carelessly sloshing everywhere… it was a beautiful, joyous affair.
Yes, Reverend Black Grape and Kelly’s Heroes had the crowd bouncing, but for me, the high came from three favourite cuts off Orange Head—especially the funky, psychedelic swirl of Marbles and the hypnotic groove of Get Higher. I loved the Motown-style bass and layered synths. Total Black Grape.
The night was winding down when Shaun and Kermit had done their bit. Shaun, moving down the steps like a man who’d just run a marathon in wellies, gave me a smiley wave. Meanwhile, the band kept playing… I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening but turns out, this was the grand finale in disguise.
As each show reaches its climax, Shaun and Kermit pass the baton to Mikey, Seth, and Che to finish things off. Watching them in full flight is pure exhilaration. I was in awe. Not just of their technical abilities, but for their combustible energy. If I were in Black Grape, behind the kit or strapped to a bass or guitar, this would be the moment I’d live for, The section where every musician steps out of the collective and claims their own spotlight. It’s a rare chance for an audience to savour the individual brilliance of a band’s members but I think every performer should be able to revel in being centre stage.
‘Machine-Gun Mikey’ (not his name, I’ve just made it up) fires off his bass poses like a stage-bound Scarface. Che insanely pounding his kit with monstrous precision, while Seth unleashes a raft of gritty, chaotic riffs that you couldn’t take your eyes off. The rapid strobe bursts and visuals matched the glorious mess unfolding on stage. I absolutely loved every second and could have watched it for another hour. At least.
As the final notes rang out, Mikey gently laid down his bass like a lover he didn’t want to wake. Che, drenched in sweat, slipped away from his kit with the guilty urgency of someone leaving a hotel room at dawn. And then there was Seth, lifting his strap from his shoulder, letting his guitar dangle in front of the crowd like a shamed spectacle before slinging it to the ground like it had betrayed him in the worst possible way.
If instruments could talk, that one would have needed the therapy.
Black Grape are probably one of the most musically underrated bands despite their 30-year career and success. Shaun proudly reminds people that over the years, Black Grape have sold more albums than the Mondays. I know I shouldn’t probably say this, but in all honesty, I can hear why. On its release, It’s Great When You’re Straight…Yeah! (1995), debuted at #1 on the UK Albums Chart, and went platinum.
Thirty years on, they remain a glorious contradiction: chaotic yet tight, irreverent yet iconic.
Their final gig of the tour was something else, a full-blown triumph wrestled from the jaws of illness. You could feel the struggle though. Every note carried grit and determination. Thoughts and prayers were with them as I watched, but the ‘Reverend’ wasn’t needed—no last rites, no final goodbyes – they survived.
For me, this wasn’t just another gig; it was one of the most unforgettable shows of the year. If you missed it, you missed a slice of pure Manchester magic. I walked out smiling, grateful, and thinking – Now THIS is why live music matters. What an end to 2025.
Words and Photos by Shavorne Wilbraham
