Courteeners fill basement with pumped fans in Ladbrokes Live Club NME launch
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"Manchester, Manchester", the cries of two blokes absolutely on one last Friday night as Courteeners took the stage.
This was no ordinary UK tour for the band, however. I took a trip to Dalston in east London– home of the Netflix series on everyone's lips, Top Boy. I could see I was in the right place by some distance, with a long queue stretching down the pavement of Stoke Newington Road, allowing me to shut down Google Maps early.
I last spent a night at EartH four years ago seeing Elderbrook who coming to think of it, couldn't have put on much more of a polar opposite show to that thrown by Club NME and Ladbrokes Live – where entry was free.
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Check out more of my ramblings disguised as reviews of London's coolest gigs here.
Speaking of opposites, they certainly attract in the unlikely duo of a leading music magazine and betting giant coming together to bring back from the dead an indie disco event that launched the first time round back in 2005. Unlike the red-topped bookies that line high streets up and down the UK, Ladbrokes Live is a new entertainment platform bringing Brits to – you guessed it – live events.
The billing promised a special surprise act to follow the frenzy of headliners Courteeners. I demonstrated my ignorance in glorious fashion by failing to clock the mystery had been unravelled right before my eyes as The Libertines’ Carl Barat and Gary Powell steered the ship into the latter hours of the night with a DJ set.
When I say everyone was up for Courteeners by 9pm, I mean it. Fans flanked by bars on either side were charged up and it was visibly rubbing off on the Manchester-based band with frontman Liam Fray buoyed by the support.
And sure there were the inevitable phones briefly held aloft to snap the occasion, but the lack of screens in my eyeline was notable compared to the usual concerts I find myself at. As you'd expect, that resulted in a sea of bouncing heads, waving arms and for the two fellas in front of me, jovially knocking into to anyone who had the misfortune of standing around them. I spent more time than I'd have liked dodging eye contact before turning to see my mate had fallen victim to a squeeze of the cheeks and ruffling of the hair.
Perhaps the best thing I can say about Courteeners' set is that I felt like the one awkward bloke in the corner who didn't know the words but watching everyone else bellow lyric to lyric. Had the AC at EartH not been so proficient, evaporated sweat would've almost definitely begun dripping back down on us. It really was the kind of evening I'd grown up expecting of an NME-led bash.
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