THE FRATELLIS ― LIVE AT KENTISH TOWN

The final show of The Fratellis two night residency at Kentish Town was deemed, naturally, to be massive. Having rescheduled the tenth anniversary London leg of debut album, Costello Music, into the new year ― the propulsive beats so attributed to that of the Glaswegian indie rock trio had been deeply anticipated by all those lucky enough to have snagged tickets, a reminiscent evening of the tunes everyone knew and adored in the haze of 2006.

The Fratellis - Left, Jon, Middle, Mince, Right, Barry.

The Fratellis sauntered onto the stage easily to deafening applause and chants ― the moment, long awaited as it was, seeming almost bittersweet in light of ten successful years. Launching into more recent tunes, among them We Need Medicine and Impostors (Little by Little), shockingly enough did not quell the delirium of the London crowd and though not every individual was as familiar with the more current jaunts, good―natured singing and shouldering was still rife. It was, however, when the opening notes of Henrietta kicked in that the crowd seemed to lurch into life ― the latter being one of the most adored effervescent tracks of the acclaimed album. Tearing with pristine fashion through Flathead and Cuntry Boys and City Girls ― it was very clear from the outset that the sold-out crowd, consisting of new and diehard fans alike, would not be disappointed. Whistle for the Choir had everyone on their mates shoulders, screaming out the lyrics whilst those on the floors looped their arms around each other and basked in the lights from onstage ― there was definitely something surreal about hearing the song played so effortlessly, still casting the same euphoric ambience it had achieved a decade earlier. Vince The Loveable Stoner and Doginabag patched the crowd into very much the same hotchpotch of bodies, those in the upstairs stalls swaying on the staircases with individuals they'd arrived with and those they hadn't.

Chelsea Dagger, undoubtedly, set the crowd into a frenzy of shouting lyrics into one another's faces and pushing back to get pits started, crowd surfers relishing in the glory and tugging away from the security attempting to drag them over the barrier. As the most highly anticipated tune from Costello Music's thirteen tracks, the venue was throbbing with the opening stabs, which every individual singing along had almost mastered to shout over as plastic cups were launched across heads. It was a classic, rocketing to victory upon it's release and launching the crowd in Camden into the days of MySpace and popular Indie tunes that dominated the charts. If you're a Brit, you'll recognise the chants of Chelsea Dagger anywhere. Ole Black 'n' Blue Eyes, as the closing track from album and set, was another shout for everybody to clamber onto shoulders ―  played and sang flawlessly by those who knew it best. Drowned in beer, sweaty, sticky and cheering lyrics with a group of topless lads was something else entirely ― and exactly how I imagined it to have panned out ten years prior at a small Glasgow bar, on the cusp of the height of Costello Music's merry and well deserved fame.

In a world that's feeling pretty scary and uncertain ― it's comforting to know that some things will forever stay the same; put two thousand people in a room in front of the band who wrote Chelsea Dagger as they smash it out and everything, for one blissful moment, will seem alright. I can safely say that as long as we have plastic cups of lukewarm Tuborg, mildly perilous indie mosh pits and the classic overprice of merchandise ― we'll all be fine.