Photo: WENN
"What can I do," says Andrea Corr, perched on tiptoes and gazing into a crowd of thousands, "to make you love me?" It's not a desperate plea though - the crowd were fully on board in that regard even before she stepped on-stage - it's a segue into what is perhaps the group's most famous song.
I say 'perhaps', because it's got stiff competition. There's also 'Runaway', 'Breathless', and 'Summer Sunshine' (this one's excluded from the setlist, much to the chagrin of the group of fans belting it out as we're herded onto the tube afterwards). Then there's 'Only When I Sleep', of course - and 'Radio'. You might not know them immediately, but if I hummed them to you, you'd get there. Because The Corrs are something of a phenomenon.
Sure, they were never a band you liked just to impress people. In fact, a recent piece in The Independent referred to them, quite simply, as 'never cool'. But there was something about their unabashed earnestness - in a Britpop era where success came to those who stuck to the fewest notes, and pretended to want it the least - that resonated. They were siblings who got on well with each other, who punctuated their pop ballads with violin riffs and penny whistle solos, and melded contemporary rock and pop with tradition Irish folk themes. It resonated, in fact, to the tune of three multi-platinum albums and the highest-selling release of 1998.
Still, booking a gig at the gargantuan O2 Arena more than ten years after their last hit album seems something of a risk. Their success - though undeniable - is often retrospectively sneered upon, after all. Tonight though, it's clear that risk paid off. The 20,000 capacity venue is full, with Brazilian, Swiss, Mexican flags being held proudly aloft. People have travelled far for this gig. And it doesn't disappoint.
Andrea Corr's husky voice is as powerful as ever, tackling those tricky celtic jumps with ease as she windmills and twirls around the stage. In a world still puzzlingly lacking in female drummers, Caroline looks to be on a mission as she alternates between a full-on drum kit and a bodhran, while Sharon's violin riffs are the emotional centre-piece of pretty much every song. I'm sure Jim - the sole brother amongst the siblings, who's had a busy decade as a 9/11 conspiracy theorist - adds something too. I'm just not quite sure what.
The roar of foot stomping and screaming that welcomes the band back on-stage for the encore isn't done out of obligation. It's because every single person in the venue wants to see more. And that, no matter what those sneering sceptics might say, is pretty damn cool.
