The Ting Tings - Manchester Academy
On the day on which their ubiquitous, infectious and uplifting single ‘That’s Not My Name’ crash-landed atop the hit-parade, The Ting Tings returned to their roots with a gig in their hometown of Manchester. A great deal has transpired since the band last played in their home city, in short, as you will obviously be aware unless you have spent the last six months holed up in a ditch; they have become uber-massive. There has been a phenomenal degree of hype surrounding the band for some time now, but the success of both previous single ‘Great DJ’ and the aforementioned TNMN, has seen the band heralded by the ever grounded and not in the least bit sensationalist NME; as a subversive, artistic, left-field pop behemoth who have singlehandedly “saved the top 10” from its inevitable drift into oblivion and doom. Having seen The Ting Tings live previously and being left somewhat underwhelmed by the lack of intensity and partial musical emptiness of their live performance; I was intrigued as to whether their meteoric rise in profile and NME column inches would be replicated in their live act.
As the band took to the stage, these doubts re-manifested themselves in my head. Whilst there is obviously no denying The Ting Tings mastery of penning savvy, suave and sexy sophisticated pop. However, my nagging doubts over their ability as a live act remained. However, it soon became apparent I was well and truly barking up the wrong tree; as although the band have undoubtedly been over-hyped, their stage craft has improved beyond all recognition since I saw them last. Sauntering onstage to the Teutonic four to the floor rhythmic pulsation of ‘We Walk’, a track that has morphed from grand beginnings as a pop-tastic demo; to the point where it now resembles an avalanche of electronic swishes and stomping beats, Jules and Katie appear charged, determined to bask in the glory of being number one and to produce a performance their hometown will look back upon as the day on which The Ting Tings came of age.
In the main they deliver and didn’t disappoint the ecstatic masses gathered to herald the homecoming heroes. The pace of the set is frenetic and unforgiving, the atmosphere electric. The crowd lap it up, singing back every word, as the band fires through an abundance of future classics from their imminent debut album. ‘Great DJ’, ‘Fruit Machine’, ‘Shut Up and Let Me Go’ and ‘Be The One’ all have the mark of modern day sophisto-pop par excellence. The gig only loses momentum briefly with the appearance of the meandering, sickly sweet ‘Traffic Light’, a tune so insipid and woeful that its conclusion was greeted with polite applause and a collective sigh of relief. The inevitable airing of ‘That’s Not My Name’ is greeted with frantically rapturous scenes and sees Katie gently poking fun at Manchester’s insistence in producing earnest, troglodyte fronted indie, when she quips that its cool to see a band from the city that isn’t “made up of five blokes”. The band rounded off their set with a rousing rendition of the title track of the soon to be huge ‘We Started Nothing’. The doubts remain over their longevity and ability to remain fresh and viable; yet for the moment treasure them as a breath of fresh air and a long uninterrupted interval of sunshine to provide a perfect pop soundtrack a long, hot summer.