If you turned up to Haydock Park expecting a gentle warm up and slow lead in before Madness, Laurie Wright clearly didn’t get the memo, because instead of easing the crowd in, he walked out with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a massive grin.
I think there’s something so brilliantly magical about a lad who can walk on as opener delivering a solo set – Acoustic too. No band, no safety net, and not even his name on the ticket, but still carry enough confidence to make the whole place feel like a Friday night down the local. Laurie’s got working class honesty in every string of that Gibson SJ-200 of his and it oozes out through every percussive scrub. His acoustic play has that busker born picking that could and probably has stopped foot traffic. Its the kind of street corner rhythm that sounds like it’s been played outside a thousand pubs and still hasn’t lost an ounce of bite.
His 30 minute set ended too soon, but just in time for 15 minutes of biblical carnage. Violence via weather. The kind of downpour that made me question some of my life choices and my coat buying habits. I was, of course, totally unprepared for this. I like to call it gig photographer luck, as i stood there looking around in total disbelief at just how soaked to the skin I was and just how soaked the inside of my camera bag was, especially as i had an umbarella in the boot of my car. But honestly? It added to the moment. Nothing bonds a crowd like collectively drowning while trying to pretend you’re fine.
No sooner had the rain eased off, than Laurie appeared left of stage. Fully changed, refreshed and chatting with fans, grabbing selfies, being a proper human being. No ego and no distance. Just a lad who genuinely loves the people who show up. You don’t see that enough anymore. Most openers disappear faster than your phone battery at a festival unless they have a merch stall, but Laurie? He’s the kind of bloke you could probably have a pint with and end up talking about life, gigs, and the price of petrol. As an opener for Madness, he was spot on. Acoustic, punchy, warm, and full of character. The perfect contrast before Suggs and the gang rolled out the big ska carnival. Laurie didn’t try to compete with the headliners. He just set the tone with heart, humour, and a bit of bite.
After the short but understndable rain-induced delay, The Ordinary Boys were up next. The Ordinary Boys are basically what happens when a bunch of sharp dressed indie lads from Worthing accidentally write a few bangers, get catapulted into mid 2000’s fame, And then… they vanished. Poof. Gone. It was like your favourite pub shutting for a refurb, but seemingly never reopening.
When they finally reappeared they were twenty years older, but they still sounded epic. No rust, no wobble, no “we’re too old for this”. Just pure, pent up energy like they’d been waiting two decades to finish the song they started an age ago.
They seemed to bring this brilliant pent up energy onstage with them, like two decades of not gigging had built up inside them and they were finally allowed to let it explode. Their set was tight, loud, full of confidence, and clearly loving every second of being back. It wasn’t just a nostalgic 20 year return. It was a proper comeback. Everywhere I walked among the crowd after my 3 songs from the pit were spent, you could see groups of people singing and dancing along.
And then came Madness, delivering the most sensible setlist decision imaginable. Give the people what they want, and what the people wanted tonight was the hits. All of them. One after another. No fillers, no faffing, no “here’s one off the new album”. Just pure, unfiltered, unapologetic Madness.
What they delivered was the soundtrack to a million British childhoods. This took me back to my punk/rock childhood, and my best childhood mate Adam. We’d argue often about the virtues and brilliance of our favourite bands, Adam was the ska kid, but I guess we were both too immature to accept that anything could be as good as the stuff we individually liked.
I’ve grown into somewhat of a live music obsessive, and listening to Madness live, it was all too easy to understand and better appreciate why Adam loved them so much. The humour, the bounce, the sheer Britishness, the working class and everyday subject matter of their songs. Suggs still has that effortless frontman charm, and the band sounded crisp, confident, and completely aware they were delivering exactly what people came for.
Tonight wasn’t just a greatest hits set. It was a reunion with a version of me from 1980/81 finally accepting just how epic Madness truly are. Adam is still on my Facebook friends list and I do hope he reads this, because I’d like him to please accept my apology. 12/13 year old me struggled to admit that Madness were and still are true masters of their craft because I was too busy defending the music I loved. I’m much more musically broader minded nowadays, and spend a lot of my gig time trying to catch bands and genres I stubbornly swerved as a kid. Madness were definitely on my list, and would be every opportunity I get. They are just so entertaining and so much fun, as are their fans and followers.
