Echo and the Bunnymen at Shepherd's Bush Empire, W12


The first wave of dry ice spewed across the stage a good half-hour before showtime. By the time Echo and the Bunnymen appeared, this now rather unusual device had transformed the Empire into a scene resembling a mythical landscape at the dawn of time. And here, fittingly, were the Bunnymen - or at least singer Ian McCulloch, and mainstay guitarist Will Sergeant, with four slightly fresher faces - all set to whisk us through their 1980s alternative anthems, on the concluding night of their 25th anniversary tour.

In their heyday, the hazy ambience was designed to mask the excesses of McCulloch's lifestyle. He's still a noted bon viveur, and when he and his band members slouched into view and struck up Show of Strength, he was at that moment surely the only person in the British Isles sporting a pair of sunglasses. His hair was gelled up into its familiar, still ludicrous spikes, and he began as he would continue - chain-smoking, and extravagantly booting away his butts. There was no change in his voice, either: rich, cool, and not shy of its old soaring croon.

The post-punk era from which the Bunnymen sprang has been inescapable in 2003, but this oddly traditional rock band never really went out of fashion, with, in recent years, Liam Gallagher and Coldplay's Chris Martin falling over themselves to provide McCulloch's backing vocals.

Unlike their more avant-garde contemporaries, the Bunnymen always name-checked Abba, the Beatles, even Frank Sinatra, and the accessibility of those influences was writ large as the hits rolled out - Rescue, Silver, Seven Seas, The Back of Love, The Killing Moon and, finally, The Cutter.

Notice was served that this was not some lame revival show when these last three career highlights were doled out mid-set, in breathtaking succession. From there, they went on just as they might have in 1985, stretching out with fans' favourites All My Colours and Over the Wall.

For Do it Clean, Sergeant slashed out a savage riff, his pendulous fringe swinging in time, and the song morphed into several others, ad-libbed by McCulloch, one of them the Doors' LA Woman. It was a bit of a mess, frankly, but a glorious one which, contrary to all the laws of rock and roll reunions, took you right back to the real thing.