Kaiser Chiefs, Echo Arena, Liverpool. January 2015. Photograph by Ian D. Hall.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

Not so much as offering a riot or an explosion of epic proportions, what first nights really do after all but The Kaiser Chiefs kicked off their latest tour with some style, much swagger and ultimately thunderous applause from an Echo Arena crowd that had seemingly waited far too long for the band to return to Liverpool.

It is reasonable to wonder what prolonged exposure to the glare of the television camera will do to a musician, the sterility of the studio where spontaneous feeling and gig like appeal are pushed to the background and the only possible feasible outcome is that the live audience will suffer from the vampire like small screen. Some things in the hearts of many don’t cross-over but as always credit is due, working in a different field has not tempered vocalist Ricky Wilson’s sense of the dramatic or the feeling of angry Yorkshire rhetoric. The songs may be beguiling with an upbeat momentum, like a rocket never losing the ability to slow down until its target has been breached, but the wonderful bitter fuelled warnings, played with passion, delivered with a language all of their own, never ceases to engage and warm the fury that comes with the three or four minute rock track. Perhaps it should be seen that the studio and the machinations of the television has not dimmed the fire within the hearts.

January may be many things, but the month in which the tour kicked off in is not known for being forgiving in the face of folly and in that respect it much in common with a Liverpool audience who can sniff musical insincerity out with the keenness of will, like a fox sensing a farmer armed with rifle and pride, if the crowd believes there is no soul worthy of being applauded, then it won’t stand by and congratulate just because of the artist is. For the Kaiser Chiefs though there was no folly in the setlist or in the manner of the performance. Yes, it wasn’t blistering, agreed that it wasn’t the finest example of arena rock in the city for a while, bit of a tall ask to top Peter Gabriel, Slipknot and The Who to be fair, but it was entertaining, wilful and arguably filled the hearts of the fans who had waited far too long for the band to come back to the natural home of music.

Opening the evening with The Factory Gates, the gas was soon stepped upon and as if finding an open road in which to test the true capability of a Harley Davison, the bleached white bones gleaming, tempting along the way to join in the wreckage of rock abandonment, and tracks such as Every Day I Love You Less and Less, Everything is Average Nowadays, Na Na Na Na Na and the bruising satirical nature of The Angry Mob, which saw a type of planned estrangement between the band, a taunting nature of back and forth and musical schizophrenia as Mr. Wilson sang from the other end of the arena, The Kaiser Chiefs left no stone unturned in search of the reaction  that would make the night a moment to kiss the harshness of January goodbye and usher a couple of weeks of good old fashioned rock into the fans view.

With tracks such as Roses, the random nature of keyboard player Peanut’s choice of Little Shocks, the tempest like affair of youthful love in Ruby and the gratifying antagonism, the beating height of resentment in I Predict A Riot, the Kaiser Chiefs laid down the initial set of rules for the tour ahead, to have fun, to be big, bold and beautiful but most of all to stay true to the music ideal and away from the stilted nature of television performance.

As good as ever, the Kaiser Chiefs bring a welcome smile to the weather beaten and rock deprived face.

Ian D. Hall