Nostalgia is a hell of a drug. Just ask Robbie Williams, who’s celebrating the mid-90s on latest LP Britpop, a.k.a. the deeply unhappy period pre-solo superstardom that saw him tortured by addiction and relentless tabloid takedowns. Still, time and 21 million albums sold make it easier to move past those memories, leaving Williams free to score a record-breaking 16th solo number one by tapping into the current cultural thirst for 90s content.
To celebrate, he’s been playing a handful of “club shows”, treating comparatively tiny audiences to a run-through of Britpop, preceded by his debut album, Life Thru A Lens, in full. Last night it was Brixton Academy’s turn to get up close and personal.
Sporting a bootleg Blue/Blur t-shirt and baggy jeans, Williams was clearly getting a buzz seeing the whites of the audience’s eyes for once, and that energy was reciprocated in spades, with just under 5000 punters displaying all the fervour of golden ticket winners. That buoyant atmosphere more than carried the record’s weaker moments: the forgettable thrash of Life Thru A Lens and Beck-lite Gary Barlow diss-track Ego Agogo. Indeed, introducing the latter, Williams reflected on his behaviour in the new Take That documentary, branding himself, “The smuggest person that ever lived.”
Equally, the underrated swagger of Lazy Days truly soared, while the truly timeless Angels was all-but given over to the audience to sing alone, bar a triumphant final chorus. This being a Robbie WIlliams show, the set was peppered with lengthy reminiscences delivered with a side order of self-deprecation. Climbing down to the barrier during a triumphant outing of Old Before I Die, he clambered back onstage clumsily, declaring with a head shake, “I’m 51!” Throughout, there was no doubt every moment meant the world to Williams, even if he did intersperse his sincerity with rehearsed patter, Charlie Chaplin-style walks and the odd burst of Charleston-style choreo.
Following a brief interval, the band launched into Britpop, beginning with punky single Rocket. A rabble-rousing outing of Pretty Facewas dedicated to wife Ayda Field, while glammy Gaz Coombes co-write Cocky revived the spirit of The Sweet. But, in a sentence on nobody’s 2026 bingo card, the show’s highlight was Morrissey, a homoerotic disco ode to parasocial relationships, co-written with Gary Barlow. Announced as his next single, its shimmering chorus elicited the kind of joyous call and response that was largely missing for the second half of the show.
For, as positive as Britpop’s reviews have been, live, it made for an underwhelming final act. Without the warm glow of hindsight, it all began to feel a bit of a slog, leaving the UK’s greatest showman unnecessarily hamstrung by chronology. On this occasion, we could have all used a little more nostalgia.
