Setlist: (incomplete) Tomorrow, Out To Get You, Laid, Sit Down.
Review by Tania Branagan, Melody Maker
And sticking folky fiddle on the tail of “Johnny Yen” won’t convince anyone that James are Irish. Or indeed, that they are any good. But (deep breath, confession time) I’m actually quite fond of them. Tim Booth still can’t dance. They still use horrible contrived puns (“She knows where to hide / There’s nowhere to hide”). They can be clumsy, pompous, embittered and often are. But “Come Home” and the sheer glee of “Laid” warm up the whole rain-tinged, wind-chilled crowd. For all their faults, they’ve still got the spark; they can still burn and glow.
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