LIVE REVIEW

James & Razorlight at The Fortitude Music Hall, Brisbane

Tuesday, 13th October 2026

Photos: Chris Searles

Words: Ben Preece

Ask someone if they know James and there's a reasonable chance they'll respond enthusiastically. Yes, of course they know James. They love 'Laid'. It's a brilliant song. American Pie is part of their coming of age, after all, a film that has them questioning both whether Jennifer Coolidge qualifies as a particularly desirable mother and whether their sexual preferences might extend to baked goods. Curiously, 'Laid' is something of an anomaly in the band's otherwise remarkably sophisticated catalogue, making it all the more peculiar that it's the song by which so many people know them.

In some respects, James share the peculiar fortunes of several other artists who break through internationally during the alternative rock explosion of the early 1990s. Beck has 'Loser', Blind Melon have 'No Rain' and Counting Crows have 'Mr. Jones', to name just a few. Each song becomes so thoroughly embedded in the popular consciousness that the substantial body of work surrounding it risks being overlooked. Of course, plenty of listeners venture beyond the hits and discover the remarkable albums behind them. In the case of James, many of those people appear to be gathered inside Brisbane's overflowing Fortitude Music Hall tonight.

The audience is predominantly in its fifties and beyond, including plenty who presumably discover James during their formative years in the 1980s. But there are younger faces too, some proudly wearing James T-shirts. Perhaps their parents introduce them to the band, much as mine introduced me to the Rolling Stones. What's immediately apparent is the extraordinary devotion James inspire. Conversations reveal fans who follow the band across multiple countries, including those heading to New Zealand for another helping, those who saw them supporting the Smashing Pumpkins overseas in the early 00's and others who have accumulated a frankly ridiculous number of James concerts over the years. This is one of the most committed audiences this reviewer has encountered. James are that kind of band.

Fast forward to 2026 and the cult of James continues to grow. Far from resting on their considerable legacy, the band remain remarkably prolific. Guitarist Saul Davies tells Waxx Lyrical in a recent interview that they're already working on their next album, with another planned beyond that. Forty-four years into their career, James are looking towards album number 20 rather than contemplating the end.

RAZORLIGHT

First, though, there's the considerable pleasure of Razorlight, who are celebrating the 20th anniversary of their five-times-platinum self-titled album. The British five-piece have aged remarkably well, ripping through a set that lands considerably closer to straight-up rock than the indie territory this reviewer anticipates. There's a muscularity to their performance that perhaps gets overlooked when discussing the wave of British guitar bands that emerged during the early 2000s, and it suits these songs enormously.

Johnny Borrell remains nothing short of a spectacular frontman. Still impossibly lean, all curls and white trousers, he looks much as he did during the band's commercial heyday, performing with an energy that suggests precious little has changed either. He's equally compelling fronting without a guitar as he is pulling rock star shapes with one. The shirt comes off midway through the set, another decidedly un-indie gesture from a man whose band was once firmly filed under indie. Borrell attacks his guitar, commands the stage and works extraordinarily hard for what is, after all, a support slot. It's difficult to reconcile this performance with the fact that Razorlight first emerged in 2002.

And then there are the songs. The restless energy of 'In The Morning' sounds every bit as immediate as it did two decades ago, while 'Golden Touch', from their debut, is another dazzler. 'Before I Fall To Pieces' and 'America' serve as reminders of just how many enduring singles Razorlight produced during their commercial peak. For a band so closely associated with a particular era of British guitar music, there's remarkably little about this performance that feels like an exercise in nostalgia. By the end of the set, the crowd is firmly in the palm of Borrell's hand, and Razorlight leave the stage having made a compelling case for being considerably more than a band trading on past glories.

JAMES

Words aren't quite enough to capture the feeling James somehow produce on stage. There's a calmness, something almost spiritual, an energy that's difficult to define. Nine musicians entirely comfortable in one another's company, completely absorbed in the music they're making, yet somehow generating a sense of collective serenity that's as compelling as the music itself. Long-serving members share the stage with newer additions, bringing percussion, trumpet, violin and a wealth of musical possibilities. There's an attractive camaraderie between them all, an unmistakable warmth that makes watching James perform feel like something rather special.

Without intending the slightest insult, there's something of a happy-clapper cult about the whole experience. The audience is positively evangelical, the music carries an almost spiritual charge and at the centre of it all stands Tim Booth, an unlikely but thoroughly convincing cult leader. There's even a biographical connection to the spiritual world: Booth's wife, Kate Shela, is a shamanic healer and teacher. Whether any of that informs his stage presence is impossible to know, but the singer certainly possesses the kind of charisma that makes people want to follow him.

Booth doesn't receive nearly enough recognition for the remarkable frontman he is. At 66, he continues to defy expectations, moving with a freedom and physicality that would put performers half his age to shame. Yet there's something remarkably unhurried about his presence, even when the music reaches its most exhilarating moments. Perhaps he's responsible for some of that calm energy that seems to radiate across the stage. Booth is magnetic without demanding attention, utterly immersed in the songs while remaining wonderfully connected to the musicians surrounding him.

Saul Davies, meanwhile, is quite the rock star in his own right. Beginning on violin before moving between acoustic and electric guitars throughout the set, he's a fascinating musician to watch. A few songs in, the arms come out, revealing a rather impressive set of guns, and there's something wonderfully physical about his playing. Davies appears genuinely plugged directly into these songs, responding to every shift in dynamics with his entire body. He's a musician who doesn't merely play the material, but seems to inhabit it.

The visual spectacle is constantly changing, too. Nothing stays still for long, and the stage becomes an ever-evolving arrangement of musicians, instruments and personalities. Percussionist Deborah Knox-Hewson moves between microphones and instruments, sharing her attention with seemingly everyone around her. Congas appear and disappear as required, while trumpeter Andy Diagram finds himself illuminated high on the balcony at one point, a position Booth also occupies during the evening. It's a wonderfully fluid production, with little of the rigidity that can sometimes accompany a large ensemble.

Backing vocalist Chloe Alper is another compelling presence, possessing the kind of charisma that could easily sustain a band of her own. As it happens, she has several to her name, including Period Pains, Tiny Giant and Pure Reason Revolution. Her chemistry with Booth is particularly striking. Far more than a conventional backing singer, Alper acts as an essential vocal counterpart, their voices and personalities continually playing off one another. At one point, the pair sing an entire song staring directly into each other's eyes, their gaze unbroken. It's an arresting moment of intimacy amid an otherwise expansive performance, and another reminder of just how much happens on a James stage beyond the music itself.

The evening is ostensibly a celebration of Laid, the band's magnificent 1993 album, and all 13 of its songs feature across a generous 23-song set. Rather than performing the record in sequence, James weave its songs through selections from their extensive discography, allowing different eras of the band to converse with one another. It's a smart decision, and one that illustrates just how consistently rewarding their songwriting remains. There's barely a dull moment, with almost every song revealing itself as a miniature masterpiece.

'Say Something' is an early highlight, its familiar melody drawing an enormous response, while the beautiful 'Five-O' demonstrates the emotional depth that makes Laid so much more than the album containing its famous title track. 'One Of The Three' is another standout midway through the performance, its delicate atmosphere providing a moment of reflection among the more exuberant material. These songs are a reminder of the remarkable range James possess, capable of moving from moments of near stillness to exhilarating communal release without ever making the transition feel forced.

And communal release is something this audience understands instinctively. By the time 'Sit Down' arrives, the distinction between band and audience becomes almost meaningless. Thousands of voices threaten to overwhelm Booth's own, the crowd practically assuming lead vocal duties as the song fills every corner of the venue. It's an enormously joyous moment, one that captures the extraordinary relationship James have cultivated with their listeners across more than four decades.

Following the joyous singalong of 'Sit Down', proceedings take an unexpected turn when a medical incident in the audience brings the performance to a halt. Someone appears to have fainted, and the band make the compassionate decision to leave the stage early, allowing the situation to be attended to before returning for their encore. It's a small but telling gesture of care from a group whose connection with their audience is already abundantly clear.

'Sometimes' opens the four-song encore and immediately restores the atmosphere of collective celebration, with another enormous singalong sweeping through the venue. Then comes 'Out To Get You', the opening track from Laid and quite possibly the finest song in James' extensive catalogue. Tonight it receives the royal treatment. In striking contrast to the exuberance that precedes it, the room falls almost completely silent, the audience seemingly unwilling to disturb a note. You could hear a pin drop. It's a breathtaking demonstration of this band's command of dynamics, and of an audience willing to follow them wherever the music leads.

'Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)' and the inevitable 'Laid' bring the evening to a suitably euphoric conclusion, the latter finally giving everyone the song that introduced so many listeners to this remarkable band in the first place. It's a fitting end to an extraordinary performance, one that feels less like a nostalgia trip than a celebration of a group still operating at the height of its powers.

It's spectacular, it's lengthy (three-ish hours) and, by the end, it's utterly exhausting. But good God, it's brilliant. James sure are a band worth believing in.

Chris Searles Photo Gallery