Razorlight at Brixton Academy

Warming Brixton up for a night of early 2000s indie vibes were Mystery Jets. Double denim and 70s mops were on fine display as they ran through a panoply of their tracks, including the gorgeous Young Love, a collab with the luscious songstress that is Laura Marling from 2008 album Twenty One, and Someone Purer from 2012’s Radlands.

As the hour for Razorlight approached, the incline of the main standing space of the Academy steadily filled, a predominately geriatric millennial-leaning crowd staking claim to their prime spots, pints and double pints in hand.

To whet our appetite, documentary footage of the formation of the band played out on the screen behind the stage. Though, as it turns out, the acoustics in such a venue don’t lend themselves to film screenings, as much of the commentary was nigh on impossible to make out, particularly over the hubbub of beer-lubricated Thursday evening chatter among mates gathering for the gig. Still, we got the idea, and it aptly transported the audience back in time to a more retro era of ciggies and heroin and rock and roll and the rocky beginnings of a rock and roll band, the perfect primer for a night of retro indie.

If that weren’t enough to put one on standby, then the literal timed countdown surely was, with all in unison chiming in for the final “ten” like an extremely premature NYE, with all the melodrama of a rocket launch.

Only then, finally, did the iconic figure Johnny Borrell skip onto stage alongside his bandmates: guitarist Björn Ågren, bassist Carl Delemo and drummer Andy Burrows.

And so ensued a nostalgia trip of a night dedicated to the 20^th anniversary of the group’s 2004 debut Up All Night, the band playing the album in its entirety for the bulk of the evening, with newer material for the chaser

All came in order, with Leave Me Alone and Rock ‘n’ Roll Lies for starters, proceedings building to a double climax in the form of a barnstorming Golden Touch and Stumble and Fall, before moving through the rest of the album and closing on the sublime Somewhere Else, which had come as a bonus track on the 2005 re-release of the record.

There was little in the way of chatter with the crowd till someway into the setlist, but Borrell knew when and how to engage, particularly hammering home just how “live” they play, with no one in their ears telling them what to play, no backing track: “We make mistakes…I just feel every gig should be unique, something that only happens that night.” And it was a fair point to make, proving their ilk may yet hold something over newer artists whose need for polish can take the spontaneity and exhilaration out of live music: i.e. if you want to hear it exactly like the record, stay home and play it.

They also delivered that priceless energy that so many gigs fail to ever muster, more than once riling up the male-dominated crowd into a moshpit of sorts. Beyond the slight overzealous physicality of some audience members, who were swiftly escorted out by security, everyone was letting loose, even to the point that the usual sea of screens was somehow avoided, the Academy just too in the moment to worry about that crucial footage for Insta. This may not be the 60s and Borrell may not be Iggy Pop – but for just a short moment in time, he and his band brought something of that chaotic punk spirit propulsing through the iconic venue, a reminder that in our bones many of us just wanna dance and sweat and experience music in real-time, forgetting TikTok even exists and throwing our phones into the sea.

But all didn’t end at the album’s end: a bulkier than average encore delivered beefy crowd pleasers In the Morning and Before I Fall to Pieces from their eponymous 2006 album, reminding us of the enduring viscerality of their kinetic guitar sound and precision of their lyricism. Plus there were newer numbers such as Zombie Love and Cool People from this year’s surprise critically acclaimed Planet Nowhere, and a track so fresh it had never been played live before (this writer didn’t even catch its name!), a testament to this band yet having something left in the tank.

For those disengaged by the unfamiliar material, Razorlight brought it back home in epic fashion with the one and only America, going out in a blaze of shirtless, guitar-ripping ferocity, leaving fans to re-ponder the resonance of the lyrics, “There’s nothing on the TV nothing on the radio / That I can believe in,” as they turned out into the night – but also to revel in the collective yearning for connection that yet remains even in darker times, “I need you tonight  / To hold me, say you’ll be here.”

Sarah Bradbury
Photos: Virginie Viche

For further information and future events visit Razorlight’s website here.

Watch the video for the single America here: