Liam Gallagher John Squire

London The Troxy

Close, but no cigar.

For a certain demographic, the pairing of former Oasis frontman Liam Gallagher with ex-Stone Roses guitarist John Squire is the stuff of fantasy, a dream combination of Manc royalty that can only reap rich rewards. And judging by the form book it’s hard to disagree, their musical compatibility (a shared taste for psych-laced, 60s-based, 70s-styled rock’n’roll swagger) and Liam’s long-held fan-boy admiration for the Roses bodes well. Both can barb a hook, and their self-titled debut album matches knockout Gallagher punches with lashings of Ali-shuffling fancy-fretboard footwork from Squire. What could possibly go wrong?

Essentially, nothing does. They stroll on, all parkas and attitude, play their album in full, and mooch off after 45 minutes with ears full of adulation, before returning with a creditable reading of the Rolling Stones’ Jumpin’ Jack Flash that sends their shellshocked audience into the night a good 45 minutes earlier than they expected. There’s nothing from either protagonist’s back catalogue, no extemporisation, it is what it is. No more, no less. Liam’s in awe of the band, but despite the seasoned sessioneers hitting all the right notes there’s no essential spark, no collective groove, everything but Liam’s strident combat-sport vocal seems tentative. They rock, yeah, but it’ll take a few more gigs before they truly roll.