Shed Seven – Still Going for Gold at Rock City
There is something wonderfully improbable about Shed Seven. More than thirty years into a career that has survived Britpop, the death of Britpop, several attempted resurrections of Britpop and the inevitable point at which everyone involved starts selling anniversary editions on coloured vinyl, the York band remain a group who seem to be having an absolutely magnificent time.
And, crucially, so does everyone watching them.
Thursday night at Nottingham’s Rock City was another reminder that longevity in music is one thing, but remaining genuinely entertaining and capable of making a room feel twenty years younger is quite another.
Irish indie rockers The Academic opened proceedings with their bright, melodic guitar music and youthful energy. Their sharp hooks and infectious choruses made them a fitting choice of support, representing a younger generation working within a musical tradition that Shed Seven helped establish, even if the headliners have long since stopped worrying about whether anyone considers them fashionable.
By the time Rick Witter and company arrived, Rock City was ready.
Opening with Dolphin immediately established the evening’s intentions. There would be no tentative easing into proceedings, no polite introduction before the familiar material appeared. Speakeasy and High Hopes followed, bringing the swaggering guitars and irresistible melodies that have long been the band’s trademark.
Witter remains a terrific frontman. Part indie rock star, part mischievous master of ceremonies, he has always possessed that rare ability to command a stage without appearing to take the business of being a rock star remotely seriously. There is something enormously appealing about a performer who understands the difference between confidence and self-importance.
Of course, the songs do much of the heavy lifting.
The Centre of My Everything demonstrated how comfortably Shed Seven’s more recent material sits alongside their established favourites. This is not a band surviving exclusively on the goodwill of people who bought A Maximum High in 1996. Their later work has given them something considerably more valuable than a nostalgic victory lap: a continuing creative purpose.
That said, when She Left Me on Friday and Room in My House arrived together, there was no mistaking the particular thrill of hearing songs that have become woven into the musical lives of an entire generation.
Out by My Side, Bully Boy and Ocean Pie maintained the momentum, the latter serving as a reminder that Shed Seven were always rather better songwriters than their occasionally dismissive critics gave them credit for.
Indeed, there is a compelling argument that the band suffered from the sheer overcrowding of the Britpop era. When every music publication seemed determined to manufacture a new movement before the previous one had finished its first pint, some genuinely excellent bands were inevitably reduced to supporting characters in somebody else’s story.
Shed Seven were never simply Britpop also-rans. They had an ear for melody, a distinctive guitar sound and, perhaps most importantly, songs that worked just as effectively in a packed venue as they did on the radio.
On Standby remains a glorious example, its combination of yearning melody and irresistible momentum a masterclass in making melancholy sound positively euphoric.
Then came Talk of the Town, Going for Gold and Getting Better, a sequence that could comfortably justify the price of admission on its own. There is something rather satisfying about hearing Going for Gold performed by a band who, against the odds and the fickle habits of the British music industry, have managed to do precisely that.
Getting Better, meanwhile, remains one of the great underrated indie singles of its era. Its title also provides an unusually convenient description of Shed Seven’s current fortunes.
By the time Let’s Go Dancing and Parallel Lines brought the main set to its conclusion, the distinction between old and new material had become largely irrelevant. Everything belonged, and everything sounded like the work of a band still thoroughly invested in what they were doing.
The encore brought Devil in Your Shoes and Disco Down, before Chasing Rainbows delivered the inevitable, irresistible finale.
And what a finale it is.
Some songs transcend the bands that recorded them, becoming communal property through years of shared experience. Chasing Rainbows is one of those songs. Simultaneously a bittersweet reflection on disappointment and an extraordinary celebration of collective joy, it possesses that peculiar ability to turn thousands of people singing about things that never quite worked out into something genuinely uplifting.
Perhaps that is the secret of Shed Seven’s enduring appeal. Their music has always understood that life rarely turns out exactly as planned, but there is still considerable pleasure to be found in turning up, turning the guitars up and singing your heart out anyway.
At Rock City, Shed Seven sounded like a band with nothing left to prove and absolutely no intention of coasting. The songs remain formidable, the performances assured and the affection between band and audience unmistakable.
Britpop may have been a moment in time, but Shed Seven have become something rather more enduring.
Thirty years on, they’re still going for gold. And judging by Nottingham’s reception, nobody is particularly keen for them to stop.
