He continues by thanking everyone for adhering to the no smoking signs, not the most rock’n’roll of moves, but it contributes to an unfaltering vocal performance. The repertoire is hugely varied, effortlessly flowing through the heavier arena type tunes like Turn The Lights On, before slipping into what can only be described as a sublimely strange and almost disco version of Femme Fatale, pleasing a grateful, albeit confused, audience. He deviates between electric guitar, keyboards and acoustic guitar easily, giving each instrument an equal run as the set meanders through many musical directions, before everything is sexed up for a crooning of Put Your Lips On Mine and a falsetto of Outta The Bag. It’s all a bit of a rollercoaster, flying through the career of a legend whose music has spanned five decades, yet it’s curiously transfixing and entertaining. Performance wise, it’s slick and tight, lacking only the rawness that you’d expect from a live show. However, there’s little to be forgiven as John and his band leave the stage as unceremoniously as they took to it.
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