Simon Le Bon has never really been a good singer. In fact, he's got autotune, so he doesn't need to be able to sing. Sadly, he's never been able to dance either, and he's always had problems controlling his weight. The nowhere-near-capacity audience at Earl's Court seem a little bemused as they watch this slightly chubby guy on the wrong side of 40 grunting, stumbling, gurning and perving his way around stage. He twists the lyrics of the opening tune, ‘Friends of Mine’, and sings: "the next thing that you get told - 'my god, you're looking old!'". My god, he's looking old, and the rest of them aren't looking so hot either.
Whoever claims Duran Duran aged gracefully really is talking bollocks. Nick Rhodes also looks like he ate one-too-many pies, his jacket barely buttoning over the bulge. Conversely, John Taylor looks skeletal, the years of well-documented cocaine abuse leaving behind a tangle of greying skin and bone - smudged eye-liner a roadmap to where the eyes should be. Roger Taylor is haggard and hollow behind his drumkit, wearily kicking out the same old beats he's banged out a thousand times before. Andy Taylor never takes his shades off, hiding a multitude of sins behind the frames. Apart from a handful of delusional (possibly short-sighted) fans who still want a moment of groupie gratification with their 'fave', the once pretty-boys of pop are relying solely on the music. Oh dear.
Le Bon's voice is already starting to crack as they launch into their second song, ‘Planet Earth’. John Taylor bounces around like Tigger and he seems so happy to be there, you can't help but want to try and like them. Try as you might, when you have Homer Simpson's twin bumbling his way through as the frontman, the best you can summon is pity. Le Bon claims that the lights have caught him right between the eyes and he's unable to see the setlist. Le Bon forgets lyrics to their most famous of hits, not just once, but at regular intervals throughout the evening. He's a mess of excuses, more shambolic than Doherty, and less endearing.
It gets worse. Nick Rhodes performs what fans of Friend's may refer to as "the Ross Geller interlude". His art-school outburst has hundreds of people exiting the stadium and heading to the bar. Three minutes of noise finally subside into ‘Point of No Return’, possibly the most melancholy and forgettable track off the Duran's last album, ‘Astronaut’. It takes ‘Notorious’ to get the crowds back in their seats. It takes ‘Nice’ to get them dancing. Then, just when the crowd are all fired up and ready to party, the band play a tedious version of ‘Save a Prayer’ and send them all to sleep again.
Kudos to Andy Taylor who has more rock'n'roll in his little finger than the other 4 put together. He swaps guitars a lot, managing to get an incredible sound that works with the song each and every time. Andy doesn't have much energy for the tunes Duran Duran's interim guitarist, Warren Cuccurullo, wrote in his absence - he skips the avant-garde solo in ‘Electric Barbarella’, pulls funny faces during ‘Come Undone’, and dutifully trundles his way through ‘Ordinary World’ - but he's on fire as he plays his own material. Single-handedly, his performance made the evening almost worthwhile. To see him solo must be spectacular.
‘Girls on Film’ drags on too long, ‘Rio’ is okay but a bit lacklustre and as for ‘Wild Boys’? They’re about as wild as a wet weekend in Skeggy. You’d expect something more from a band that have been playing together for 25 years, but a few damp squib pyrotechnics, and the evening is over before it begun.
Ricky Wilson, find yourself a new role model. The King is Dead: he was an impostor, anyway.
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