It’s strange, almost jarring, to see such a polished support band as Lo Moon. Their first two songs are on the brink of becoming Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game, and the drummer knows his way around a Phil Collins drum fill. It’s a sleek, overproduced sound from undeniably talented players which wins more than a few fans, despite the lack of any perceivable edge. Not that that would be a prerequisite for a War on Drugs support act.
The main band duly arrive on time, sauntering onstage and easing into Old Skin. It’s one of the gentlest openings of any TWOD songs, but also becomes one of their most obvious ’80s arena-rock homages by its triumphant close. The band set out the dad-rock stall early and rarely deviate from it. And that’s by no means a criticism: this is unashamed, fist-in-the-air rock that’s accessible to all, as evidenced by the number of parent-children punters in attendance.
The Springsteen comparisons are easy, and still very present thanks to the sax, but Adam Granduciel’s singing has taken on a more noticeable Dylan lilt, bolstered by the overt nods to him on their latest album, I Don’t Live Here Anymore. More than half of which is represented tonight and sounds expectedly slick, though I Don’t Wanna Wait and Victim are probably the blandest stretches of the evening.
Harmonia’s Dream is the most explicit kosmiche moment, but the krautrock influence is never too far away. The band’s synth lines are one of the most interesting aspects of the performance, suggesting an aptitude, and appetite, for something a little more experimental if they were so psychedelically inclined. However, a wailing solo is where they more frequently find themselves, which is no bad thing given the talent on display here.
Granduciel is chattier than usual, shouting out the band and dedicating Red Eyes to a couple who used it in their wedding. His odd request to have beer thrown a him isn’t met with as much enthusiasm as in years past (maybe due to £6.50 pints?), but there’s a couple of decent potshots that require a quick move.
The War on Drugs have never met a bridge or outro they couldn’t extend, and almost every song is stretched to its limits tonight, culminating in a superlative Under the Pressure that closes the show on a delirious high. It feels abrupt despite the unbroken, almost two hour set due to the cohesive nature of the performance. There’s no encore, strangely, but a final word from Granduciel suggests they might be saving a few songs for the second of their two Edinburgh shows.