The Stone Roses still have the verve, swagger and life-affirming tunes to thrill as Wembley enjoys a gargantuan love-in - review
Where do The Stone Roses go from here? And, perhaps more importantly, where do they need to? The celebrated Manchester indie-rock quartet – widely considered to have written one of the best British albums of all time with their 1989 self-titled debut – reformed as a live act after an acrimonious 15-year hiatus in 2011. Since then they have graduated from homecoming shows at Heaton Park to headline slots at California’s Coachella Festival in 2013 and T in the Park in Scotland in 2016.
Saturday-night’s Wembley Stadium soiree was surely the biggest of the lot. But how long can this most elongated of nostalgia tours be sustained, with just a couple of new – and largely uninspiring – songs to show for the last six years on the road, and realistically only their beloved 49-minute debut to plunder a 90-minute setlist from? Sceptics, simmer down; The Stone Roses still have the verve, swagger and tunes to play on from this scorching summertime show into the autumn of their rock careers.
This was a gargantuan love-in, a lesson in a band playing to their strengths, knowing that their audience and coming out the other side smelling of, well, roses. The quartet opened with I Wanna Be Adored, the superlative opening track from their game-changing debut album. The muddy Wembley Stadium sound – marginally improved from when I attended Bruce Springsteen’s The River tour here last summer – obscured a bearded John Squire’s rock classicist guitar, while at the same time emphasised frontman Ian Brown’s rudimentary grasp of key and melody.
Meanwhile, bassist Gary “Mani” Mounfield, eyes sunken but pose defiant, appeared to miss the occasional note, as virtuoso drummer Alan “Reni” Wren, adidas tracksuit trousers buoyant, gamely tried to hold it all together.
This might sound like a disaster, but far from it. The opener – and those that followed, from the Byrds-ish lilt of Waterfall to the dance-funk throb of Fools Gold and sublime jangle-pop of She Bangs the Drums – spurred such an indie hymnal for the delighted crowd that the vagaries of technique and tone were rendered largely irrelevant. The Stone Roses are a band whose live limitations are irresistibly outweighed by the strength of their songs and their unshakeable self-belief.
The crowd undoubtedly played their part. This wasn’t a Tuesday-night audience who wanted to tap one foot along while sipping a craft beer and reading their WhatsApp messages. They were here to have a great time. And they really did, as the band’s formative hits continued to thrill, from the poised Made of Stone, complete with snaking surf guitars, and the pastoral folk of Elizabeth My Dear, a brief somber interlude amid the singalongs.
They closed with I Am the Resurrection, which sounded as bold, hyperbolic and gorgeously melodic as it was back in 1989. An uncomplicated nostalgia hit? Yep. Still great? Absolutely. When the music is this life-affirming in the present, who cares?
