Water Rats

Set list

1. Lose Control
2. Burn Baby Burn
3. You Can’t Have It All
4. Orpheus
5. End of the World
6. A Life Less Ordinary
7. Walking Barefoot
8. Renegade Cavalcade
9. Uncle Pat
10. Polaris
11. Blacklisted
12. Oh Yeah
13. Girl From Mars
14. Twilight of the Innocents

Encore

15. Jack Names the Planets
16. Ritual
17. Kung Fu

Review 1

Is it really thirteen years since Ash burst forth from Northern Ireland?

That’s thirteen years that have seen the demise of grunge, the rise and fall of Britpop, the ascendancy of Coldplay”s glumrock, the short-lived New Rock Revolution, the burst of The Libertines, the pork-pie hats and mockney accents of the new breed of stage school brats currently worrying the airwaves and the addition and loss of guitarist Charlotte Hatherley. And that”s before we even stop to consider the sleaze of John Major”s administration Tony Blair”s New Labour, 9/11, Dubya and the so-called War On Terror.

Empires rise and fall yet through it all, Ash have remained - the wobble of “Nu-Clear Sounds” aside - a constant force of fizzing rock that successfully harnesses the power of punk with the giddy heights of pop at its purest without ever compromising one for the other. As Ash blast their way through tonight”s power-packed set, there”s a sense of comfort to be had as Tim Wheeler - sporting an ill-advised Henry V barnet - fires one electric salvo after another from his trademark Flying V, Mark Hamilton wrestles with his bass as he takes to the monitors one more time and Rick McMurray keeps the whole thing tethered together with his precise sense of timing behind his kit.

As with their scene-stealing turn at this year”s Reading Festival where Razorlight”s turgid and unjustified headlining set was consigned to the dustbin of history, Ash have no truck with flash embellishments or ego-stoking gimmickry; they simply let the music do the talking. Which, when faced with a frothing-at-the-mouth “Burn Baby Burn”, is all that”s really needed. Lean and stripped of excess flab, its thrills are deliriously visceral and joyous. Likewise the explosion that is “A Life Less Ordinary”.

Also noteworthy is how fresh their new material sounds compared to the music that made their name. Both “End of the World” and “Polaris” take their place with the minimum of fuss with the likes of “Walking Barefoot” and “Uncle Pat” and it”s a testament to the trio”s enduring appeal.

The double whammy of “Oh Yeah” and “Girl From Mars” proves to be the evening”s highlight as the hitherto sedate audience finally erupts into a bouncing, heaving mass as arms are held aloft and voices join in as one. This is how it should be at an Ash gig and the unpretentious blast of wah-wah guitar that ushers in the high-kicking ‘Kung Fu’ merely serves to remind us of that whatever comes and goes, Ash were, still are and probably always will be, one hell of a smoking band.

Review by XFM

Review 2

“Cosy”, Tim Wheeler notes as he takes the stage of a pub back room usually played by young bands looking to make their fortune. Though the real reason for downsizing is to support a radio station’s anniversary, Ash, 13 years after they first tasted the charts as schoolboys, are in that position again. Declaring this year’s Twilight of the Innocents to be their last album, to be followed by one-off tracks from Wheeler’s New York home studio, surely wasn’t their first choice. But it has put them out on a limb again, leaving them as free as when they began.

We are close enough to see Wheeler watching us as he sings. He should be old beyond his 30 years by now. But he still looks innocent, just as Ash have always seemed frozen in their moment of teenage discovery, adult experience never convincingly transforming their buzzing, blissful pop style.

Twilight of the Innocents, as the title suggests, is a determined effort to struggle free from that. “Losing my mind, it comes so easily,” Wheeler sings from the knowingly titled “You Can’t Have It All”. In “Blacklisted”, they lay bare their travails in a music industry they’ve now essentially left.

But asking Charlotte Hatherley to leave last year after a decade’s service has focused them as much as leaving their label. Rick McMurray’s jungle drum-roll to “Orpheus”, the break in “Burn Baby Burn” for the crowd to sing, before a bass-heavy climax like a fuse being lit; this all feels fresh.

The shuffling beats of latest single “Polaris” are followed by a mid-Nineties brace. “Oh Yeah!” is set at “the start of the summer…the best time of my life”, which all their early songs sound like. “Girl From Mars” adds mystery, with its lover leaving for “the stars”, and is still their perfect hit.

Ash then play “Twilight of the Innocents”. An industrial smack of treated drums, churning synths, familiar surging melodies and Wheeler’s high howl amount to his band’s first convincing, mature reinvention. “I’m still breathing,” he sings, and you wouldn’t want to bury Ash now. They’ve retained their youthful vigour, and finally found a new way to play. When they close with the pure teen joy of “Kung Fu” it no longer feels like regression, but a victory.

Review from the Independent