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Remember K-Hole? The catchy until it became annoying tale of a drug heavy night out may have gained Ali Love some notoriety but in a way it did him a disservice. Live, there's lashings of funk mixed in with some jittery pop, and some smooth stylings on top of that, meaning that while the ragged, breathless energy of his on record material is still there, he also has plenty of polish. Stripped to the waist, the man himself certainly has some swagger, looking every inch the rock star. Although Gigwise would prefer that in future he doesn't wear his jeans quite so low. 'K-Hole' may still have an raucous clatter to it but it's the funkier, twisted 70's time warp sounds of 'Late Night Session' and 'Secret Sunday Lover' that are able to garner an enthusiastic response from the crowd.
If only he hadn't gone and ruined it all by playing a couple of slower numbers near the end that aren't so much smooth as a bad lounge cabaret band accidentally blundering in, knocking the drinks over and then torturing your ears relentlessly with the sort of music your parents would consider "groovy", before refusing to leave until they've been paid. Love himself may prowl around with a predatory sleaze like a half successful attempt at a Prince clone but he's still a frustratingly incomplete performer, capable of flashes of greatness but possessing equal amounts of tedium.
As for the night's headliner, he's also a surprisingly bouncy and engaging performer, despite his production background. Although Mark Ronson may have established his own name, his chart success still owes a great deal to the various big names he's worked with. Without those names, but backed by a ten piece backing band (Ronson himself mainly sticks to the guitar) and a quartet of alternating vocalists, he crafted a slightly surreal experience. An instrumental 'Apply Some Pressure' possessed enough verve to succeed, as did the brassy version of 'Oh My God', even without (or perhaps because) it lacked Lily Allen's distinctive chirp. Ronson then got a chance to air his guitar hero fantasies, during a version of, of all things, the twangy template of the Shadows’ 'Apache', swaggering around stage.
Yet the continual interchange of vocalists always meant the gig would be a fractured experience and no amount of posturing could prevent that. Even the minor amusement on realising that sunglasses sporting vocalist Daniel Merriweather is the missing link between the Happy Mondays and Vanilla Ice could not fight off some boredom settling in, especially on the lacklustre 'Just' and the grating end of the night pub sing-a-long that is 'Valerie', a song that ranks alongside having your hands plunged into boiling hot water while being forced to watch Strictly Come Dancing for entertainment value. Much like Ali Love, there's moments of enjoyment with Ronson but as a live performer he feels like he's half assembled, meaning the night as a whole was unfulfilling.
