Let's get one indisputable fact out of the way before we begin. The Living End are an absolutely stellar live act. There's no end of talent in the three-piece's collective fingertips, no shortage of expertise in their blistering, sweat-drenched performance. They are masters of their craft, knowing exactly which buttons to press and when, which party tricks to unleash and which to keep under their sleeves for another day. The flamboyant riffery added to their four-minute slabs of purest punkabilly is taught, impressive and never overstays its welcome. The pauses for crowd participation are perfectly timed in the most obvious of songs, never falling flat enough to hear the tumbleweed breezing through the back of the venue. And front man Chris Cheney knows exactly when to climb atop Scott Owen's immensely impressive chequered double bass so as to elicit the maximum level of applause and the most digital cameras held aloft, desperately trying to capture the perfect image of the moment. Yes, The Living End know what they do and they do it bloody well; just as they should, as they've had plenty time to practise.
It's around fifteen years now since these Australian punk kids began playing Stray Cats covers together and ten years since the entire population of their native country went out and made their debut major label single the biggest selling of the 90s. Having been thrust into the limelight so suddenly, they've had to up their game over the years: it's what comes with headlining open air festivals like Big Day Out, in front of thousands upon thousands of screaming Antipodeans. And this is why you would imagine that tonight's gig, in the few-hundred-holding Manchester Club Academy, would be something of a treat for them. The days of playing venues with no security or gap between stage and audience, where you can see the whites in the eyes of everyone in the building, are long gone for these guys Down Under. This is the dictionary definition of 'intimate', the kind of gig that their fans back home have wet dreams about attending, and it's why the few people that are here are bouncing off the walls in adulation.
It's mostly die-hards in attendance this evening, people who live and breathe The Living End, who have the lyrics to their B-sides tattooed onto their skulls. There are no hangers-on, very few casual observers who've popped in from the pub over the road out of curiosity. This is hero worship, no question about it. It's why, every three minutes, there are umpteen separate shouts for different personal favourites from every corner of the venue. It's why the crowd collectively chants the chorus to much-adored second album track 'Uncle Harry' between songs. There is so much love for The Living End's history that they just can't help but be vocal about it. It's a shame, then, that the boys choose to ignore this clearly white hot atmosphere and play silly buggers with their setlist.
The unusually mediocre White Noise, the 2008 LP that received its first physical release in the UK this week, is the order of the day here. Oh sure, at least 50% of the punters know it already (damn you Pirate Bay!) but that doesn't shake the overwhelming sense of disappointment that comes with choosing some of its bloated, dad-rock-esque numbers over the wealth of far superior material in their back catalogue. Cheney and co. run through six of these: surprisingly intense opener 'Raise the Alarm', the Living-End-by-numbers title track, the excellently riffed but depressingly cumudgeon 'How Do We Know', the mutually unremarkable 'Loaded Gun' and 'Hey Hey Disbeliever' and the horrible misstep that is 'Sum of Us', which is so chilled it freezes your aural senses. And sure, almost all of them are passable, improved somewhat by increasing the tempo and injecting some energy into their haunched musical corpses. Well, except 'Sum of Us', which is just inexcusable, especially considering they play it as the first song of the two-track encore, just when the buzz for the band is at its peak (you can practically feel the let down in the air). But at the end of the day, we'd all rather have something, anything, else. Even their 'Tainted Love' cover. Yes boys, the album is that lacklustre.
Of course, we all understand that they have a record to promote and six songs from a fourteen track album isn't really overkill when you think about it, right? Wrong. When your entire set is fourteen songs long, it certainly is, and when one of the other 'tracks' is 'E-Boogie', a talent-showcasing instrumental in which Chris noodles with a beer bottle for five minutes, that leaves just seven slots in which to fit four prior albums worth of material, which seems a little under representative. Naturally, the crowd laps every second of these up though, from the rabble-rousing call to arms of 'Prisoner of Society' to the rather poignant, given the current climate, 'All Torn Down'. And while they play an extra-bouncy 'Second Solution' and a highly energetic 'West End Riot', there's only room for one track from Roll On, one from Modern Artillery and, you guessed it, one from State of Emergency. Frankly, that's criminal when you consider that the venue has an 11pm curfew; with fourteen tracks, The Living End make it to 10.35, leaving twenty five minutes of wasted show time. You'd certainly be forgiven for feeling more than a little cheated. They're rarely on these shores, when they are they'll play about three shows, and they give us slim pickings? Their Australian gigs regularly contain over twenty songs. Just because the venue is smaller and the crowd slimmer, doesn't mean we deserve less.
As 'West End Riot' draws to a close, the last song of a disappointingly short two track encore, and Chris says goodnight to his audience, a wave of disappointment sweeps across the building. You can almost hear 500 minds collectively wondering "is that it? Really?", and that's not to say there's no appreciation for what we've been given. The Living End are a thrilling live experience and this is no exception but most of the people at the Club Academy this evening already know this. Sure, if you're unfamiliar with the band, you'll probably walk out thinking that your eyes have just witnessed the greatest thing ever; but the rest of us, well, to paraphrase a song of the band's own, we wanted more. Shame they couldn't find it in their hearts to give it.
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