Opening band Credits bring a slice of California sunshine to a cold night in the capital.
With a clear gift for melody and songwriting craft rooted in the Liverpudlian tradition, and nods to America’s West Coast, they deliver an absorbing support slot. It won’t be long before they’re headlining in their own right.
At the merchandise desk, a fan asks for a copy of Waterpistol. There has been talk, once again, of reissuing the great lost album of the 1990s, but so far nothing has materialised. That sense of unfinished business lingers as Shack take the stage and open with “Sgt Major.” Immediately, we’re reminded why Michael Head remains one of the great songwriters of his generation.
His lyrics are poetic and cryptic, steeped in a life lived in working-class Liverpool, retaining a timeless, surreal quality. John Head’s psychedelic, Hendrix-tinged guitar lines coil effortlessly around the songs, while Peter Wilkinson’s bass keeps everything anchored, nudging the groove forward with quiet authority. When the three voices unite for the terrace-chant uplift of “Pull Together,” it’s an early, spine-tingling highlight. The subtle guitar melodies and conversational Liverpudlian phrasing feel as natural as breathing, it’s as if these songs have always existed.
The last time I saw Shack, they were sharing a bill with Oasis in support of The Corner of Miles and Gil. Noel Gallagher, who signed the band to his Sour Mash label, famously described Michael Head as “Britain’s greatest songwriter,” while acknowledging Shack’s influence on Oasis with “Part of the Queue.” From ‘Miles and Gil’ tonight “Butterfly,” is a moment of understated beauty. John Head takes the lead, joined by Wilkinson for vocal harmonies that sound effortless.
Released in 2005 and the band’s most recent album, The Corner of Miles and Gil still glows with a gentle, psychedelic power. Following the death of original drummer Iain Templeton in December 2022, many fans wondered if they would ever witness moments like this again. In recent years, Michael Head’s critically acclaimed work with The Red Elastic Band and his successful return to live performance have made a Shack reunion seem increasingly unlikely. Yet here they are.
Ian Skelly of The Coral, now behind the kit, is a perfect fit. With his beard and long hair, he has the presence of a devoted fan who knows the songs inside out, while adding subtle touches of his own. “As Long As I’ve Got You” retains its folky charm, transforming everyday sentiments into something quietly profound. A Shack audience is a thing to behold, and while Edinburgh crowds can sometimes be reserved, those rules don’t apply tonight. This feels closer to a communal, even spiritual experience: people sing, shout, and are visibly moved as the energy in the room swells and shifts.
Just when it seems it can’t get any better, they play “Undecided.” The word “genius” is overused, but this is surely one of the finest songs ever written. When I first heard it in the mid-1990s, it felt strangely familiar, as if it were drawing on ancient folk melodies while remaining utterly original. When the Head brothers sing together, a rare alchemy takes place.
The encore brings “Comedy” from 1999’s H.M.S. Fable, another sublime, melancholic wonder that lifts the room with its euphoric chorus about pulling through. They finish with Love’s “A House Is Not a Motel,” from Forever Changes, an acknowledged blueprint for Shack and countless others. Once again, Shack take us somewhere else entirely, with disarming ease. Bands like this should be cherished.
There aren’t many left — and nights like this are reminders to take the chance while you can.
