Emma Anderson stands stage left, looking rather uneasy. Is it the loss of her array of effects pedals, now that Lush have ditched their trademark swirly dreaminess of old in favour of chart-tastic, sassy guitar pop? Or is she just hoping that Miki won't sing as flat as she did on Top of the pops?
Most of Liverpool's 'Single Girl' T-shirted young 'uns probably couldn't care less. They were mere tykes when the distant shoegazing wars were raging; Robin Guthrie could be a New Labour politician for all they care. No, they're here to sing along to the singles and bop to the happy-go-lucky pop band Lush always were underneath all those, er, lush arrangements.
From the opening guitar-slink of 'Runaway,' the T-shirts are in motion, swaying to the bittersweet ballads and frugging furiously to the swifter, spikier tunes. Yup, tunes, proper, hummable, foot-tapping tunes, like the (whisper it) Beatles-y '500,' a light hearted ode to the rattle and hum of the '60s classic Fiat 500 car and the next single to be taken from current LP 'Lovelife.'
"Awright?" grins Miki in her best Camden scenester mockney, and, sure of the answer, launches purposefully into the soaring buzz of 'Single Girl.' And yes, we are alright, as in the Supergrass kind of alright. The young, free and confident kind of alright. The sort of alright that's too busy having fun to give a self-conscious monkey's about the state of it's footwear.
So when Lush do air a couple of real oldies, the contrast with their current hip-pop is quite shocking. Neither revised nor updated, both 'De-Luxe' and 'Sweetness and Light' still come swathed in the shimmering, arty fog of the turn of the decade, as if Lush want to show us how far they've come down the road of mainstream accessibility. Or maybe they just want to give the 20-something faithfull a familiar thrill; a swift reminder of the days before Britpop, when indie guitar music was the exlusive preserve of students and baggy seemed the way forward. Brrr.
Yet, for all their new directness, Lush aren't averse to a spot of distinctly artful embellishment, like the very grown-up taped backing to 'Last Night.' Dark and brooding, almost Portishead-like in places, it proves that Lush haven't sold all thir painstakingly crafted, left-field ambiguity for a few pieces of the Britpop chart pie. And they seem quite happy to resurrect the halfway house that is 'For Love,' part ethereality, part first step towards the shiny, happy reality of Lush's reinvention.
The potential confusion of this all-eras set is not enough to dampen the enthusiasm of this new lot of fans.
As Lush are dragged back onstage for more, Miki introduces "the obvious one" in quite-chuffed-actually mock-annoyance, and the straight talking, Loaded-reader-stalking 'Ladykillers' slays any remaining doubts that Lush are well and truly back. Maybe for good this time.
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