Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

As the Genting Arena, the latest name for the building passes in British music history as the old N.E.C., the stomping ground for nights in which the upbeat Blues and the pomp and ceremony associated with reverential Rock, the heavy guitar and the glorious pounding smile of satisfaction of sweat dripping down from the forehead, was plunged into darkness, a traditional meaty track came over the speakers and filled the hall with heart thumping gravitas and expectation.

It might not have been a song the many thousands in the crowd have suggested as being part of the act, but it somehow fitted with ease, the wrong piece of jigsaw in the wrong puzzle and yet matching up groove for wooden groove, but the dulcet tones of Roger Daltrey and the seminal guitar of Pete Townsend telling the audience that this was their generation, that this was the time in which the rolling out of the red carpet for Whitesnake was to be made hard, fast, permanent and forever was like the passing of a flame reflecting in the eyes of each and every one inside the arena, and the questioning, the demands of the doomsayers and unimaginative given the two fingers they deserved; for this was truly for each fan, My Generation.

This was Whitesnake, this was the mighty David Coverdale perhaps in one of the best performances in years and when that is stacked up against the overwhelming evidence of cool that has swayed, swaggered and strutted with sheer delight over the last 40 years, it was not surprising that the N.E.C halls shook with the relish normally given over to a teenager at their first major party and getting their first memorable snog.

Whitesnake had earlier in the year released an album which paid homage to the place where it all began, the passing of time that alludes to Deep Purple’s dominance on the British Rock fan and it was this in the form of songs such as The Gypsy, Burn, the stunning Soldier of Fortune and Mistreated which formed the backbone of the set.

The swaying hips of the audience were hypnotised beautifully with songs as generous and cool as Is This Love and Here I Go Again reverberated round the hall and sneaked their way into the mass collected soul, it was easy to see why Whitesnake remain a pivotal and crucial keystone in the building of Rock and in the temple of Rock’s great past, its future was once more passed down; one generation to another all covered in the same selfless and storming tradition. A group that never grows old and never should fade away, Whitesnake are still the epitome of Rock cool.

Ian D. Hall