Dry Cleaning, Albert Hall. 24th February 2023

I’m back in Albert Hall again. This is starting to feel like a second home. Which is no bad thing. It’s rammed downstairs for Dry Cleaning. I’m quite curious to see how this lot translate live. On record you see, they can be quite tame. Lulling even. Raucous it isn’t. Even ‘Gary Ashby’ that everyone knows and which gets dispatched early isn’t exactly the stuff to get a crowd going wild. ‘Scratchcard Lanyard’ gets a fair few singing though and bassist Lewis can’t stop throwing his luscious locks around, which is rather apt as they slide into ‘Viking Hair’. It’s all too much for the idiot who I’m stood next to, who clearly can’t handle his beer, insists everyone jumps up and down, then stumbles over and sulks off. I swear I’m a magnet for these people. Anyway, for songs like ‘Her Hippo’, I wish I’d caught them in a smaller venue. It’s delicate and gets a bit lost in here. They seem a bit taken aback by Albert Hall and the crowd, but in a good way. You can see they feel the love. I am wondering though if this all feels better for those seated upstairs. Don’t get me wrong, I love the pace of these songs and Florence’s dry delivery, but it occasionally struggles. ‘Hot Penny Day’ has some glorious building guitars and the drummer is having fun, it’s certainly one of the livelier songs and it’s clear the set is on a trajectory. ‘No Decent Shoes for Rain’ fairs better. There’s more bounce. Although the guy in front starts trying to take arty photos through his pint. Which perhaps isn’t a good sign. The point though is the lyrics. ‘Goodnight’ being a great example. I mean it’s not every band that can get away with a line like "Have you ever spat cum onto the carpet of a Travelodge?". The instrumental coda at the end of ‘Conservative Hell’ is wonderful too and they really start to grow on me with those thick slabs of bass on ‘Driver’s Story’, Pixies guitar squeals and bathed in red light, they sound awesome. If I have to pick a favourite, this is it. ‘Strong Feelings’ gets dedicated Bernie “who put us up in her house last night”, which is nice of her and the accompanying  maracas get some applause too. The shredding guitars come out for ‘Unsmart Lady’ which I’m able to appreciate a little more having parked myself upstairs. That drunk idiot returned so I had to move, before I was tempted to push him over. Honestly I was a little concerned coming in and worried after the first half hour, but don’t judge Dry Cleaning too quickly. They’ve a lot in their arsenal, more than meets the eye. By the time they close with the brooding build of ‘Liberty Log’ and ‘Anna Calls From the Arctic’, where drummer Nick breaks out a saxophone, it’s clear this is a band doing the things they like, the way they like and I love that. Not every band has to bludgeon your ears or make you dance around like the floor is lava. Get yourself along to a Dry Cleaning gig and bask is their understated warmth.