Kings of Leon @ The HordernPavillion

Fri 4th Jan, 2008 in Gig Reviews

If stage invasions are a meter of true rock and roll, then King Of Leon – despite their spray on jeans and other credentials in spades – are the top of the pile. But neither the girl who walked on centre stage to briefly shimmy nor the white clad young man who sauntered right across the stage before being crash tackled to deafening cheers, raised even a eyebrow from the Followill boys who took it all in stride like so many trappings of the silly season. Three days into the New Year, and these things are bound to happen.

Rubbing shoulders on stadium stages with the like of U2, Dylan and Pearl Jam null in recent years, has epically broadened KoL’s sound, and the band proved themselves one of the few acts able to rise above the awful, soulless den of a venue that is the Hordern Pavilion – just by playing a balls out rock show. The sound was brilliantly mixed, and Caleb Followill’s voice – though suffering post Fall’s Festival and KoL’s well known penchant for a party – was strong and crystal clear even down the back at the bar. Nathan’s kick drum thundered the floor, while guitarist Matthew reproduced his soaring parts on record with pinpoint accuracy.

The set ebbed and flowed beautifully, early on the one-two punch of the lovely – œMilk’ followed by the hugely rousing – œArizona’ hung in the air only to be jackbooted off stage by a joyous run through of – œThe Bucket’. Despite how vital and well loved the first two records remain (and how well they translate live, smattered as they were throughout the set), it was tracks off the anthemic and ambitious Because of the Times which consistently raised the roof, drawing the biggest reactions from the adoring sing along crowd.

Far from pumping out only singles and leaving deadspace filler between, Kings of Leon built a thoughtful set which showcased all their strengths: revealing them both adept and comfortable inhabiting the new, bigger niche they’ve carved for themselves as purveyors of hugely tuneful, dirty blue rock which proudly shows its influences (the excellent – œCharmer’ being the greatest Pixies song they never wrote) on the one hand, while putting them firmly on the outer of the sound-a-like genre which spawned them on the other. Only three records into their brilliant career, the future is unwritten for a band as brimming with the enviable mix of chops and passion as the Kings of Leon.