Liam Gallagher John Squire review – fans left short-changed by duo devoid of chemistry | Liam Gallagher

The opening night of the Liam Gallagher John Squire tour is full of fans who’d listen to the two rock’n’roll heroes play the phonebook. Unfortunately the Oasis singer and Stone Roses guitarist put that loyalty to the test – and not only because Gallagher lists colours on psychedelic, stomping opener Just Another Rainbow.

Currently UK No 1, their self-titled album blends Gallagher’s brusque swagger with Squire’s fluid songwriting, then filters it through 60s rock and Britpop nostalgia. Clearly both musicians thrive in a yin-yang partnership, but their recording-booth chemistry dissolves on stage; barely acknowledging each other, they miss opportunities to riff on their contrasting personalities.

Backed by heavyweight session musicians, the record’s big Gallagher choruses and equally big Squire guitar solos are polished and festival-ready; songs such as bluesy I’m a Wheel feel precision-engineered to soundtrack pints in the sun. It’s fun to hear quiet Squire’s lyrics in Gallagher’s mouth, too: “Thank you for the thoughts and prayers, and fuck you too!” he snarls, as fans happily throw up middle fingers.

But then: “We’ve got no more fucking songs!” Months back, Gallagher warned this tour wouldn’t include any original Oasis or Stone Roses tracks, “cos that’s naff”. Fair enough, but how else can they pad out an hour? A cover of Jumpin’ Jack Flash serves as both time-filler and finale, underlining the lack of fire in much of Gallagher and Squire’s joint material and leaving fans audibly disappointed under the house lights barely 50 minutes since the show began.

It should feel special to witness two era-defining, arena-headlining musicians in a cosy venue, and tickets (£65 pre-fees) sold out in seconds, but tonight lacks the personality and showmanship that a more intimate setting deserves. Gallagher blasts his almighty, evocative voice far beyond the back rows, with minimal chat to bring the show down to size, while Squire is so engrossed in his beautiful, laborious solos that he firmly ignores the mic stand placed optimistically in his vicinity. This accomplished band sounds good, as you’d expect, but the whole night feels like a rehearsal for festival fields to come, with their most loyal fans footing the bill.

The opening night of the Liam Gallagher John Squire tour is full of fans who’d listen to the two rock’n’roll heroes play the phonebook. Unfortunately the Oasis singer and Stone Roses guitarist put that loyalty to the test – and not only because Gallagher lists colours on psychedelic, stomping opener Just Another Rainbow.

Currently UK No 1, their self-titled album blends Gallagher’s brusque swagger with Squire’s fluid songwriting, then filters it through 60s rock and Britpop nostalgia. Clearly both musicians thrive in a yin-yang partnership, but their recording-booth chemistry dissolves on stage; barely acknowledging each other, they miss opportunities to riff on their contrasting personalities.

Backed by heavyweight session musicians, the record’s big Gallagher choruses and equally big Squire guitar solos are polished and festival-ready; songs such as bluesy I’m a Wheel feel precision-engineered to soundtrack pints in the sun. It’s fun to hear quiet Squire’s lyrics in Gallagher’s mouth, too: “Thank you for the thoughts and prayers, and fuck you too!” he snarls, as fans happily throw up middle fingers.

But then: “We’ve got no more fucking songs!” Months back, Gallagher warned this tour wouldn’t include any original Oasis or Stone Roses tracks, “cos that’s naff”. Fair enough, but how else can they pad out an hour? A cover of Jumpin’ Jack Flash serves as both time-filler and finale, underlining the lack of fire in much of Gallagher and Squire’s joint material and leaving fans audibly disappointed under the house lights barely 50 minutes since the show began.

It should feel special to witness two era-defining, arena-headlining musicians in a cosy venue, and tickets (£65 pre-fees) sold out in seconds, but tonight lacks the personality and showmanship that a more intimate setting deserves. Gallagher blasts his almighty, evocative voice far beyond the back rows, with minimal chat to bring the show down to size, while Squire is so engrossed in his beautiful, laborious solos that he firmly ignores the mic stand placed optimistically in his vicinity. This accomplished band sounds good, as you’d expect, but the whole night feels like a rehearsal for festival fields to come, with their most loyal fans footing the bill.