Superstition demands you stay at home on Friday the 13th to stay safe, so I’m so glad we were all able to prove superstition wrong tonight
If you gave superstition the middle finger and showed up looking for fat riffs and ear-to-ear grins, Manchester’s O2 Ritz was basically your promised land. Host a gig and people don’t just show up in Manchester. They come ready, like the crowd’s half the show. The Ritz was buzzing. Not packed to the point of panic, just at that sweet spot where you can actually breathe and not end up soaked in someone else’s lager. The place had that sweaty, charged vibe, the kind where the floor’s practically begging you to forget yourself for a bit. People piled in early, drink in hand, already riding that classic Manchester pre-gig buzz. No one had designs on a mosh-pit tonight. Just tunes, accidental dance moves and thankfully, no need for a qualified first-aider.
Kris Barras hit the stage at 7pm sharp and didn’t mess around. Kris is like a cheat code for live music: Every time you see him, he’s somehow levelled up a little. Tighter band, bigger sound, way more swagger. As soon as that first riff hit, the crowd were his. The set lasted only about 45 minutes, but he packed in alot. Sound was mostly spot-on: vocals sliced through, guitar tones were mint. If I’m nitpicking (and I am), the bass drum could’ve had more punch. I like to feel it in my sternum, like getting body checked by a prop forward. But whatever, the energy was there and the crowd got into it fast. Heads nodding, hands raised, voices getting louder every song, everyone feeding off his energy. He concentrated on new stuff but didn’t skip the classics, and by the end, the place was loud enough to prove Manchester always shows up for Kris.
Then Smith/Kotzen strolled out and totally owned it. They’ve been around the block so long they’ve got nothing left to prove. Kotzen slides in with this silky guitar thing, Smith’s got the old-school rock muscle, and somehow it just clicks. On paper, you’d think they’d be stepping on each other’s toes, but there are no ego’s battling onstage here. it’s like two dialects of the same language, and everyone’s fluent. Drums were magnificent, and their bassist? Monster. She holds it all down with this fat groove and total authority. The mix was just lush, guitars weaving in and out, never troubling each other but complimenting each other seamlessly. You could just close your eyes and get lost, or just watch these two legends jam like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The crowd was shouting, hushed, clapping, or whatever the song and/or duo required of them, and they were absolutely loving it. They ripped through 14 songs by kicking off with that heavy, bluesy swagger and didn’t let up for the whole evening. Life Unchained, Black Light, Wraith. This was just banger after banger. Every tune landed like they’d been playing it together for decades. Quick breather, barely enough time to blink, then they’re back for a two-song encore. Kotzen’s You Can’t Save Me, then a massive, “arms around each other with pints raised” Wasted Years singalong, like the gig might never end. Setlist was pure fan service, and I’d be genuinely shocked if anyone walked out remotely disappointed.
The Ritz was alive, and made it feel like one of those rare nights where the bands, the crowd, the superstitious date all aligned perfectly to give us a real treat. Kris Barras set the pace, Smith/Kotzen took it over the finish line, and that rhythm section? Give ‘em a medal. Nights like this remind you why live music is still king.
Photos by Gregg Howarth
Words by Nunzia DeBiase
