Mike Skinner strolls nonchalantly out of the bus shelter from the cover of the breakthrough album A Grand Don’t Come for Free, dressed in a Stone Island sweater and with a half-drunk beer in hand, and begins his spoken-singing on the laid-back opening track "It was supposed to be so easy." The song narrates a rather unsuccessful day where nothing goes as planned. Above all, his little box containing 1,000 pounds has disappeared. Has he lost it, has someone taken it, or has it simply vanished into thin air?
The kitchen-sink realism continues throughout the album/concert, giving us an insight into what life was like for a young man in Birmingham in the early 2000s. It’s about meaningless drinking sessions, someone who’s stolen a coat and is trying to talk their way out of it, or the heartbreaking "Dry Your Eyes," where the protagonist desperately tries to win back his great love.
Everything is delivered with dignity and style, staged like a music theater or an extremely understated musical. The band supporting Skinner is tight and in sync, and the two backing vocalists occasionally step in to contribute rap verses or lines. As the climax of the performance, we finally find out where those 1,000 pounds actually ended up. A perfect finale for Skinner’s everyday poetic tale.
Some members of the sold-out Fållan audience, however, do not always seem to be on the same page; several songs that should prompt singalongs (like "Fit But Don’t You Know It" and "Blinded By the Lights") do not receive the response the songs deserve.
Perhaps they did not realize that the concert’s premise was for Skinner and company to perform the album chronologically and just wanted to party as if there were no tomorrow. Which, if so, is a shame. It is a brilliant musical work, in no small part because it is so close to real life, but also because the music has aged so well. With its blend of hip hop, grime, and house, mixed with strong choruses, it is unsurprising that it has been classified as one of the greatest British albums of this side of the 2000s.
Once the album is played through, there is a short break, and then it’s full-speed ahead as the hits start coming one after another. Primarily, it is material from the debut Original Pirate Material that is aired, but some later tracks also get a chance to shine.
Now the crowd is in full swing, and if Skinner appeared a bit too relaxed earlier, he’s now gone from incubator to full-on energy in songs like "Don’t Mug Yourself" and "Never Went to Church." His banter resembles offbeat stand-up comedy, such as when he discusses the problems with currency in Scandinavia or the perils of having tattoos in Japanese bathhouses.
Towards the end of the concert, he shouts that someone, anyone, must buy him a beer and a Fernet, waving some Swedish bills he managed to exchange with fans at the front. Shortly after, the audience is split in two, Skinner trots up to the bar, gets his drinks, and is then carried back crowd-surf style to the stage. Exuberant atmosphere is an understatement.
When all is over, a crowd that is equally exhausted and thoroughly satisfied plows through the ocean of beer cans and plastic cups covering the floor. Hardly a shirt is dry, and anyone who perhaps was hesitant during the first half of the concert should be more than pleased with the end result.
