Concert: Leftfield Venue: Glasgow Barrowland Dates: 7 June 2025
“Dance like no-one’s watching” is a phrase that raises its head from time to time, often banded about as motivational rhetoric from the mouths of life coaches – but, for me, it’s more a description of folk who put their hands in the air like they just don’t care. Essentially, those who are into bands like Leftfield. Glasgow’s much-loved Barrowland Ballroom, the venue’s iconic spring floor was packed full of people just like this, every one of them in their element under the glitterballs that have hung from the patterned ceiling for decades.
There was one punter in particular who epitomized living in the moment, emphasising the unadulterated joy audiences experience from live music. At a guess, he’d be mid-to-late 60s, wearing an off-white shirt tucked into his jeans. Over-the-ear headphones hung round his neck, a sign of someone who enjoys the comfort of having music easily accessible at all times. Like Rick Smith from Underworld (and I don’t mean this disrespectfully), he looked a bit like a retired teacher, Geography or Modern Studies I would imagine, but his love for what he was experiencing was so apparent, I couldn’t help but admire him. He wasn’t only dancing like no-one was watching, he was dancing like his moves were being controlled by the band, in some weird, Black Mirror type way.
Unbelievable to think that Leftfield have been going since 1989 and even more so as the material they performed on stage sounded like it could’ve been written earlier this year, it sounds that fresh. Much like their contemporaries Orbital, The Chemical Brothers, Underworld, Boards of Canada and Faithless, their music doesn’t seem to age. It’s not even the case that it’s gone full-circle, falling in and out of fashion in the thirty-six years since they formed, more that it’s been a solid part of the UK dance scene, stubbornly refusing to be anything other than cool.
I attended the third of three nights at the Barrowland, delighted to be there as I’d (somehow) never seen them live before. I’d heard from a few folk who’d been the previous night that it was a fantastic show, so I had gone in with high expectations. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed. As expected, they played a decent whack of songs off their infamous debut album, Leftism, much to the jubilation of the crowd. It was an album I remember kicking about at parties and barbecues in the ’90s on CD, sporting worn or cracked jewel cases and the occasional scratch due to being over-handled and overplayed. I always liked it, but did, however, prefer other dance music from around that time. I bring this up to emphasise the sheer impact – and importance – of live music. A bit like heavy metal or classical, the difference between hearing it live and listening to a recording is worlds apart, regardless of how slick the production is or how expensive your hi-fi or headphones are.
Image: L. Allen
Led by co-founder Neil Barnes, the band walked on to an extensive drone, which soon merged into opener Song of Life, a performance that confirmed, in no uncertain terms, that there’s no limit to how much bass the Barrowland can shoulder. The low-end was so deep and all-encompassing, it was as if it was trying to vibrate my ear plugs and onto the sprung floor, which shuddered underfoot as my brain rattled in my skull. Thankfully, those low frequencies didn’t continue for the whole gig, although they did return towards the end of the set, making me wonder if it was an intentional top ‘n’ tail. Regardless, the band’s unique fusion of electronic dance music, reggae and house had the crowd in raptures. There’s something so deeply engaging about the combination of arpeggio synths, strobe lights and a solid floor-on-the-floor, especially when accompanied by a live drummer and bass with such presence. It’s a mix that seems to hypnotize a crowd, any repetitive tones never become boring. Conversely, it arguably becomes increasingly more engaging, due to the band and punters grooving as one, meaning the end of the song interrupts that deep connection. But what a great problem to have.
Highlights for me were Universal Everything, Accumulator and Not Forgotten, with nods to Full Way Round and Release the Pressure, the latter showcasing top vocal performances from Earl Sixteen and Cheshire Cat. Over the near two-hour set, Leftfield’s performance was an immeasurably energetic and enjoyable sweaty mess, and further proof that the 1990s produced bands of many genres who have demonstrated longevity, exceptional musicianship and bodies of work that have entertained audiences young and old for decades – and will no doubt continue to do so as long as they can.
Leaving the Barrowland, I felt a sense of pride that I grew up in a time that produced such phenomenal music. I fully plan to be throwing my hands in the air like I just don’t care for many years to come, just like the guy in his mid-to-late 60s with the headphones round his neck. Having taken my ear plugs out, delighted to discover I could still hear okay, I heard folk comment on how brilliant the gig was, and caught a guy saying to his mate that, because they’d closed with Phat Planet, it had put him right in the mood for a pint of Guinness. An ideal way to let the sweat dry if you ask me.
