LIVE REVIEW + PHOTOS: You Me At Six – Mountford Hall, Liverpool – 17/02/2024

As any patron of British rock will undoubtedly attest to, a You Me At Six tour or live appearance of some kind of a pretty normal occurrence. This one, though, has come around a bit unconventionally. The presence of this run has rotated through a number of hats in its lead-up, initially as a celebration of the 10th anniversary of Cavalier Youth, only to have that subsumed by the revelation of their breakup next year. It might not be the total end of days just yet, but there’s more enthusiasm to be felt than has been in a while. You Me At Six have indelibly become part of the furniture, a band for whom excitement at arm’s length can have severe limitations. Tonight, though, with a rare Liverpool stop in a venue the size of which has been dwarfed by them countless times, there’s definitely something there.

That’s even with the acknowledgment of how ‘jobs for the boys’ the support can feel. Surely, in the ancient past of the early 2010s, You Me At Six would’ve crossed paths with Yashin, therefore bringing its much-delayed spinoff Call Me Amour into fairly stark light. You’d be hard pressed to say they’ve fully broken away from that era, too, given how Harry Radford’s stage presence hasn’t picked up many new tricks since the days of 2010s post-hardcore prettyboys. In crowd patter especially, he draws on togetherness through music and following your dreams to make a change that verge headlong into maudlin territory. He’s a frontman defined by that era’s showmanship, up to and including tromping through the crowd to perform the opening run of La La from atop the venue’s bar. At least there’s more going for it than your standard green opener, though; the gears generally turn in the same way, but their denser, darker, current-era electro-pop-rock has a standout beat or two in its favour. In other words, the spectre of a decade ago’s vicegrip isn’t entirely suffocating for them.

As for Deaf Havana, their ties with tonight’s headliners go way back, despite never finding as stable footing to rocket to similar heights. They’ve been consistently better but a lot more underrated, and the fact they’re given a crowd that can at least empathise with that wavelength feels like the kicker for them. As pat as the whole “this is the best show of the tour” declaration can be, it’s more believable than most when James Veck-Gilodi’s oft-stony visage begins to notable crack a smile on Mildred and Sing, and have it fully break out on Hell. This might be the most geared-up reaction they’ve had in a while, and fully deserved when their cache of Britrock bangers still hits. There is some unorthodoxy to England and Evil being here at all that gets a tad more tentative, but otherwise, the steady flow is as refined as ever—skyscraping alt-anthems like Trigger and Going Clear give way to their taut, glossy pop on Worship and Sinner. When they take their support role in stride and zero in on their best, Deaf Havana are on unquestionably fine form.

You can just as easily tessellate that expectation onto You Me At Six as well, a band who’ve racked up that many road miles that their floor of quality live is just that naturally high. Sure, by now, the setlist largely write itself, but their incredibly competent—good, even—at relaying that. And it does help that neither banner competing for space on this tour looms over that heavily; you don’t get the impression of a band gearing up for retirement, nor does a couple of extra Cavalier Youth cuts constitute that ornate a celebration. It’s more business as usual, and You Me At Six’s capability at delivering in that mould is well-known. Their back catalogue of big-hearted, uncomplicated rock hits land squarely at the enjoyment receptors in an environment like this, fostered immediately as Room To Breathe announces an arrival that maintains a fairly decent clip throughout.

A nostalgia factor can’t be denied either, worming its way even into songs like Fresh Start Fever and Reckless that have indeed reached double digits in age now. It’s telling that this seems to be generally older crowd, likely those who have grown up with this band in the spotlight, and who are more susceptible to getting roped in by a career-spanning setlist with multiple instances of fan service. Apparently this run has seen the first airings of Kiss And Tell and Save It For The Bedroom since 2019, as if to bypass the notion of poorly-aged lyrics written by literal teenagers, and give the dedicated what they really want to hear. (Gossip still probably isn’t coming out the locker any time soon, mind.) Newer material, on the other hand, isn’t offered the same liberties. Mixed Emotions fits flush among the rest of their hit parade, though :mydopamine:’s stodginess is only amplified when directly following, and Beautiful Way is a fit-for-purpose closer, rather than the best in their arsenal.

Thankfully that’s all a rather minor discrepancy. In general, You Me At Six are fully able to maximise every scrap of potential to deliver that they’ve got. The arena-rocker energy doesn’t go amiss, as Josh Franceschi flexes his usual vocal power and populism as a frontman whose experience at treading these boards is evident. Even when in boyband formation for Be Who You Are and Stay With Me (acoustic guitar and standing snare and all), the figure they cut is still one of a consummately giant rock act, risen through the ranks to get here on their own sellable merits. Other than their triplet of illuminated diamonds as a backdrop, the songs themselves are the focus. Again, some of them are well-worn, but when Lived A Lie or Bite My Tongue or Underdog sit as defining pieces of the Britrock canon, you’re hardly inclined to care that much. The foundations are just that unshakable, even when dipping into the saccharine pool of Take On The World, adorned with extra poignancy thanks to the sea of phone lights in its wake, but also the circumstances it’s arriving in. This is the beginning of You Me At Six’s last leg, a band who’ve had ample ups and downs, but have stood as a bulwark for British alt-rock’s potential to be enormous and blindsiding the entire time.

Words by Luke Nuttall

Photos by Faye Roberts (Instagram)