Thursday 08/06/06 Gomez @ Carling Academy, Liverpool

As one fan aptly stated whilst surrounded by a swarm of over 40’s, “Gomez are the only band that I like, that my dad likes as well”, it was clear that these lads from Southport had bridged that gap between awkward student experimental music, to dad-rock… in a bad way, and as they stepped out onto the stage you could tell Gomez knew it. Their flair had well and truly burnt out, they weren’t ‘cool’ anymore and their songs were becoming the stuff of that dreaded place-the middle of the road.

Of course touring around the UK and the US is going to take it out of you-WHEN YOU GET BACK!, but when you greet your audience with a sigh and just a feeble obligatory wave, don’t expect the reception you were used to back in the glory days. Kicking off, or maybe begrudgingly slugging out is more to the point, their last inspired song - the awesome ‘Shot Shot’ , it was quickly apparent the crowd were receptive but the band clearly did not want to be there. With the exception of Tom Gray bouncing around like a puppy and enticing the crowd for cheers like an overindulgent preacher, they were tired bored and borderline obnoxious as they trundled through past hit after past hit, blatantly aware that their last offering ‘Split the Difference’ was shite and nobody wanted to hear a bar of it.

‘Liquid Skin’ and ‘In Our Gun’ were tonight’s main offenders as tracks like ‘Sound Of Sounds’, ‘Fill My Cup’ and even ‘Bring It On’ showed themselves, much to the delight of their hardcore fans as we’re sure the cheers could be heard from at least Manchester. It wasn’t until ‘Ruff Stuff’ that the other members decided to join in Gray’s enthusiasm if only for a fleeting moment, and the familiar gusto of years past came to light with new hit single and no-brainer ‘Girlshapedlovedrug’ and ‘Devil Will Ride’ inspiring a sing-a-long that reminded the band of the mark they had left with all their loyal followers. Of course ‘How We Operate’ had to be played, so the title track was rushed out ‘Hamoa Beach’ was played with some reassuring conviction and as luck would have it, the beautiful ‘Notice’ was poured upon the crowd with glorious melancholic honest. When they were hot, they were on fire but when the vivacious ‘Whippin’ Piccadilly’ showed itself upon the contrived encore, one could not help but feel as if they had their day long ago, resting on their laurels and riding on the success of old songs maybe to save the gig, or remind the crowd or even themselves of who they once were.