Deacon Blue

Deacon Blue

Kilmarnock Grand Hall

Marianne Gunn

ALTHOUGH their musical career spans almost 30 years, Saturday evening saw Deacon Blue's first ever gig in Kilmarnock's Grand Hall, a fine venue to kick off their short winter tour.

Promoting their latest album, A New House, Ricky Ross promised the crowd that the night would be made up of some new songs and some "really old" songs, and his vow received delighted whoops.

The six-piece band provided a two-hour set and after an initial hiatus when Ross tried hard to get the crowd on side ("We're going to do this together, people of Kilmarnock") the band's blend of pop, rock, blues and country-style music hit the spot. Lorraine McIntosh, in lace-sleeved black shorts playsuit, was in feisty form and with Twist and Shout she coaxed the crowd onto their feet with her writhing oo-oos.

Queen of the New Year got the Ayrshire blood pumping before a few ballads and some funky guitar tracks made way for 1989 hit When Will You Make My Telephone Ring.

A cover of Always On My Mind was followed by new album track Our New Land, complete with potential independent Scotland undertones.

A barrage of hits brought the show to a close: Loaded, Rain Time, Real Gone Kid and - after a Twitter troll preamble - Fergus Sings the Blues.

With singalong foot-stomping and heady tambourine, Ross introduced the well-known band before they feigned an exit.

A rousing demand for Dignity was met with a varied encore: Chocolate Girl and the Deacon Blue official anthem (Dignity) being the most memorable.

Although the band will perform in Glasgow's Clyde Auditorium on Monday and Tuesday this week and Edinburgh's Usher Hall later in the month, opening night in Kilmarnock may just have proved to be the show to see.

SCO Messiah

City Hall, Glasgow

Michael Tumelty

RICHARD Egarr is a slave to no doctrine, as we have seen many times in Scotland, where the conductor is an Associate Artist with the SCO.

And nor, as we saw on Friday in his marvellous performance of Handel's Messiah, is he a follower of fashion or a hard-liner on anything.

In an illuminating pre-concert talk, Egarr nailed to the wall the standard opening to The Messiah, with its taut, dotted, spring-loaded rhythms.

He wasn't going to do it that way. Why not? "Because Handel doesn't call it an Overture. He calls it a Symphony."

And that, as Egarr showed, is a different rhythmic ball game, with rhythms broadened and edges softened.

I was on the edge of my seat before a note had been played.

And what followed was a fluid, unforced, unhurried Messiah of near-chamber dimensions.

I sat right at the back of the hall and felt this intimacy, with every word pellucid and absolutely nobody belting it out, the SCO Chorus included.

This, relatively, made their calls of "wonderful" the more powerful, the more explosive, yet without trace of shouting.

The soloists seemed locked into Egarr's liberated vision, with the one-and-only James Gilchrist suspending Comfort Ye somewhere far from chronological Time, replacement mezzo Madeleine Shaw bringing at once humility and a kind of majesty to her part, while soprano Elizabeth Watts' voice was in glorious full bloom, and the young bass baritone Ashley Riches brought an awesome emotional depth to his performance: my God, have you heard this guy?

A splendid night, full of challenges to convention, with the SCO, its chorus and soloists in perfect harmony with the remarkable Mr Egarr.