Wednesday 06/02/08 30 Seconds To Mars, LostAlone @ Hammersmith Apollo, London

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Bacon and egg’s, cheese and pickle, fashion and music; these are things that have gone hand in hand since time began, but there’s no apparent correlation amongst tonight’s crowd. Top Shop styled pre-teens, dressed up mid-forty something parents, corpse-like weirdoes and all manner of people who look like they’ve run away to leave the circus. But there is one common bond… the anticipation that this could conceivably be the best night of their lives. And judging by the sleeping bags and blankets that litter the entrance to the Hammersmith Apollo, either 30 Seconds To Mars can’t afford the local Holiday Inn or fans have been camping out in expectation of the penultimate night of their sell out tour. Neither rings true, but something’s afoot and going by the swell of people trying to rush the doors, whatever it is, it’s gonna be good.

Derby 3-piece LostAlone open the evenings proceedings, walking on stage in what was designed to be a dramatic entrance; a backdrop of moody lights alongside the theme to War of the Worlds. Unfortunately, it resembled something more akin to a Sun Bingo sponsored county title fight. But it’s the thought that counts and made wholly irrelevant as their drawn out paint-by-numbers electric decadence grabs everyone’s attention. So much so that bassist Tom Kitchen allows himself to prance around the stage with all the elegance of a mountain goat whilst vocalist Steven Battelle has the excuse he needs to get down on the floor to complete an impressive set of three press up’s. It’s a short set, but it’s done the trick and fair play, the atmosphere is now palpable.

One ‘dramatic’ stage entrance down, another to go, but this time, it works, as Jared Leto and co, silhouetted against a huge white sheet and satanic light show big enough to induce collective epilepsy, take their positions, backed by Carl Orff’s ‘Carmina Burana’. Cue mass hysteria of Beatles proportions… seriously, screaming boys, fainting girls, possessed children and a sprinkling of bemused adults. Already this is turning into one hell of a show; the band have yet to strike a chord and already it’s operatic, highly polished, well planned and some might say over indulgent. Then it begins and as planned is anthemic, big, loud and very American. With crowd pleasers including ‘From Yesterday’ and ‘The Story’ already setting the benchmark for crowd control and adoration ‘Buddha For Mary’ provides the soundtrack to an early Jared Leto stage dive; which the cynical in the crowd might interpret as extensively choreographed and for the benefit of the on stage one man film crew, either way it has the desired effect. And the on stage dramatics go on and on with each member of the band using the stage to its full advantage, to run around, spin around, jump up and down and ensure axe wielding poster poses aplenty for the mob of front row photographers.

‘A Beautiful Lie’ gets the reception that’s expected and is executed with glossy perfection while ‘The Kill’ takes on a more bizarre twist; mid way through, the band are joined by two dancing ballerinas wearing pink and black tutu’s and red tights as well as six gospel singers providing backing vocals. To describe the scene as surreal would be an understatement. ‘Revolve’ and ‘Attack’ follow and then the band leave, show over. Of course there’s an anticipated encore; but Jared Leto fails to appear on stage and instead, clutching a guitar and flanked by security, materialises in the circle seating area, leaning over a balcony. Screams of excitement are followed by screams of shock… is he going to jump? Of course not and if he did, his inflated ego would soften the fall. Instead the adoring masses are treated to ‘Capricorn’ and an aborted rendition of ‘A Modern Myth’ with guitarist Tomo Milicevic taking to the violin. After some technical problems, ‘Echelon’ is expertly knocked out before ‘A Modern Myth’ is grappled with again, this time, problem free, before the band end an epic non stop set with ‘The Fantasy’.

Staged, choreographed, exaggerated… it doesn’t really matter; 30 Seconds To Mars live equals damn good value for money, transcends age and is ultimately a good old fashioned night out… of sorts.