It's a funny old game, showbiz. One minute you're top of the world, holding out for a hero and slugging it out shoulder pad to shoulder pad with Pat Benetar; the next, you're doing the chicken-in-a-basket circuit in front of a rather old-looking audience. That's entertainment, as Paul Weller said. And, while Bonnie Raitt won't ever need to descend to playing the Working Men's Clubs, there was a definite feeling of times past at her Friday night gig.
For a start, there was a guitarist stuck in 1983, with his two-tone shoes and Eric Clapton suit, a whole bank of keyboards to remind you of those late Dire Straits shows, and a completely bald rhythm section for whom time has unfortunately not stood still. The music was, likewise, for the most part completely un-rock 'n' roll.
The best songs were those where Raitt, a nifty enough slide guitarist, used the electric rather than acoustic. The rest, even Paul Brady's guest slot, seemed tedious with its outdated ballads and pompous Richard Thompson covers.