More than 40 years after Ian McCulloch and Will Sergeant first blitzed live stages as Bunnymen, the current incarnation sound like everything a long-time fan craves – lashings of looselimbed art-rock with great swathes of serrated guitar, and that croon as the cream on top. Yet tonight never feels predictable; they remain reliably mercurial.
McCulloch, lean and serene in perma-shades, despite having to cut short a show the previous week because of illness, takes detours into, for example, a few lines of The Jean Genie or Roadhouse Blues, in the ad-libbing manner of Patti Smith. It’s unlikely, though, that she would engage in an odd rant, in a low Scouse rumble, about Danish footballer Jan Molby. The Bunnymen’s songs are so strong that they can pull off such switchbacks without losing momentum. As the main set climaxes with an apocalyptic The Cutter, the sonic surge is so powerful you’re almost blown back a few metres.