It’s difficult to say exactly what Take That are going for on their This Life tour: a 41-date behemoth that has shifted more than 700,000 tickets. Video interstitials show the three remaining members doing their very best at acting in retrofuturist infomercials. The set is sometimes done up like a 1950s sitcom, sometimes just with sterile white staircases. At times we’re at a pop show and at others a museum retrospective. It’s confusing packaging for three decades’ worth of songs.
But you simply have to relinquish reason and give into the vibe, which is Butlins’ redcoats doing Britain’s Got Talent. The trio emerge dressed like youth pastors by way of Balenciaga for a downbeat start to the show, but soon nudge it up a gear with crowd favourites nestled among the new material. Gary Barlow makes the most sense when he’s safely ensconced behind a piano, bashing out a ballad. A Million Love Songs absolutely shines, while Back for Good sounds as good as it ever has – which is very. Barlow never delivered these songs with much in the way of youthful energy, so the intervening 30 years have taken nothing from them.
The eras section, which comes with enthusiastic narration, a fake phonecall bit and never once mentions Robbie Williams or Jason Orange, is a fun if incomplete history of Britain’s most unlikely boyband. They gamely give the original Pray choreo a go, and for some reason their slinkiest hit, Sure, gets a big-band breakdown before lurching back in the direction of R&B to end. “Oh, you’re enjoying the 90s stuff,” Barlow says, with the undeniable air of a local radio DJ giving it everything he’s got.
There is still no question that beyond the 90s stuff, Shine is an absolute roof-raising banger (despite the urge to buy discount products from big box retailers hanging over it), and The Flood comes into its own on the stage, crackling with energy. Each member gets his moment in the spotlight – Owen’s solo hit Clementine is when he really comes alive, while Donald’s mournful rendition of Speak Without Words (“Well, this never got released but here it is anyway”) is a reminder that his own solo career never took off.
Amid the cheese and baffling stagecraft, there are further flashes of magic. Never Forget is a reminder of the power Take That wield: a slow burn, a heady shot of nostalgia and a euphoric passing of the baton to whatever comes next. They’ve come a long way – but they’re still not too sure where they’ve been.
