Despite his band playing at major festivals up and down the land, and signing off with a run of shows at Alexandra Palace, Orlando Weeks always seemed a reluctant frontman of The Maccabees. A little too thoughtful, too introverted perhaps; someone who bore the limelight of being in one of Britain’s leading indie bands a little uncomfortably.
Tonight, at London’s HEAVEN, The Maccabees almost six years gone, two solo albums under his belt with a third soon to be announced, Weeks still seems like someone who does not enjoy being front and centre. His words to the crowd are quiet and self-deprecating, his stiff, awkward dancing seeming to exist more from the need not to stand still than from an actual desire to move. Does any of this matter?
Not a bit, because it is obvious that Weeks is comfortable with his shyness, with his awkward, his introverted nature. He is not trying to be something he is not. He seems happy just being him.
And this shines through in the music this evening, much of which is drawn from Weeks’ most recent album, 2022’s Hop Up. Like its predecessor, A Quickening (released in 2020), the songs from Hop Up are deeply personal and uplifting, inspired by Weeks’ ongoing experiences of parenthood. They are clearly, evidently his own. He has moved lyrically and musically a long way from his time in The Maccabees.
HEAVEN is a small venue, and while there are a few issues with sound – at times Weeks can’t be heard over his band – but for the most part his voice sounds as exquisite live as it does in recordings. “Blood Sugar” is a particular highlight, as are several as yet unknown tracks from the upcoming new album (only one, “Dig”, has been released so far, and that only as a live recording). Meanwhile, “Big Skies, Silly Faces” is another standout, as uplifting and gently heart-warming in a live setting as it does on Hop Up.
The HEAVEN crowd is one of the nicest, politest I have ever been part of at a gig (my girlfriend, who came with me and is a hardened veteran of Taylor Swift concerts, was I think almost shocked at this). We were all soon swept along by Weeks’ infectious, self-knowing awkward dancing and delivery, bobbing along and moving in time to the music, which came thick and fast – fifteen songs in little over an hour.
A special mention has to be made for Weeks’ band, composed of William Doyle, Luca Caruso, Alexander Painter and George Sheriff Sewell, who were energetic, enthusiastic, and sounded excellent. That the whole group were having a great deal of fun was evident from the way they interacted with one another and the way their enthusiasm and energy swept through the crowd. Perhaps this being the last night of the tour helped. Many of the songs played carried some extra weight and punch, especially when it came to the guitar parts; closer “Safe in Sound”, usually quiet and dulcet on the record, ended in a manic feverish guitar solo and eventual jam from the whole band.
The show also highlighted the importance of shows at small venues at bands, and the things they bring that larger venues, especially arena shows, cannot. Leaving aside the fact large queues and lengthy exit times can be avoided, you are able to see the band up close, notice the little interactions and moments of joy between the band members, feel every aspect of the show. There was an approachable feel to Weeks’ show, something that linked it to the likes of small-scale gigs that take place in bars and pubs across the country – the musicians walking on nonchalantly to soundcheck fifteen minutes before the show started, security guards happily handing out setlists at the end.
The intimate venue really allowed the uplifting joyous feel of the music to shine through. And above all, seeing Weeks so comfortable in his own skin, and his own music, knowing that he was performing how and what he wanted to perform; this might have been the greatest joy of all.
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