“Caught by the Buzz”: Supergrass Bring I Should Coco Back at The Albert Hall

The Albert Hall, Manchester, 16th May 2025.

WORDS AND IMAGES PAUL EVANS

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There’s something undeniably poetic about the convergence of music, memory and northern architecture on a spring evening in Manchester. The Albert Hall, once a Wesleyan chapel, now a sanctuary of sound, stands resplendent with its stained-glass windows and vaulted ceilings, a space steeped in both history and echo. It’s hosted countless transcendent nights in British music and tonight the anticipation is crackling. Supergrass are in town, performing their blistering 1995 debut I Should Coco in full.

The evening begins with a surprise twist, a stripped-back set from Reverend and the Makers. Only three members appear, hunched over their instruments like prophets in a corner pub. In place of a live drummer, an iPad perches comically on a stand, like a reluctant understudy. Still, the energy is there. They open with a dub-punk fusion of “Mirror in the Bathroom” and “Miss Brown,” and the crowd responds with nodding heads and bouncing shoulders. A raucous rendition of “Heavyweight Champion of the World” lands like a drunken bouncer, gruff, familiar and slightly unpredictable. Frontman Jon McClure, in top form, peppers the short set with witty anecdotes and warm Sheffield banter, his voice dancing off the ornate arches. “We were going to do a Bob Dylan cover,” he laughs, “but he never does any of ours, so f*** it.”

As the I Should Coco artwork ignites behind the stage, a roar rises from the crowd, a blend of longtime fans, curious first-timers, and teenagers dragged along by parents claiming, “This band changed everything.” From the moment the jagged riff of “I’d Like to Know” explodes into the room, it’s clear there’s no slow build tonight. Supergrass come out blazing. Gaz Coombes is in fighting form, his voice elastic, raw and irresistibly melodic, bouncing around the former chapel with undiminished verve. The bass snarls with intent, and Danny Goffey powers forward with the same restless urgency he had 30 years ago.

When “Caught by the Fuzz” hits, the whole room lifts. Its tale of teenage misadventure and sweaty-palmed panic still lands with urgent, youthful charm. “Mansize Rooster” follows like a jolt of adrenaline. unhinged, cheeky and soaring with surprising grandeur. But it’s the sacred trio of “Alright,” “Lose It,” and “Lenny” where the emotion really kicks in. “Alright” detonates like a time bomb of collective memory. No longer just the soundtrack to carefree youth, it’s transformed, delivered now with a wink, a sigh and a knowing nod to time’s passage. As the crowd belts out “we are young, we run green,” it becomes not a statement of age but of spirit. Few singles can rival it. “Lose It” and “Lenny” follow. Raucous, frenzied, glorious messes. “Strange Ones” slinks in, eerie and twitchy, its jittery energy now oddly in sync with today’s anxious age. It lurches with a proto-post-punk rhythm that feels more current than nostalgic. “She’s So Loose” cools the room. Guitars shimmer and Coombes delivers the vocals with fragile grace. Phones rise, swaying slowly as the atmosphere softens. “We’re Not Supposed To” winks with sly rebellion, a nod to anyone who’s ever broken rules just because they could.

“Time” creeps up with gentle persistence before bursting into its bright, euphoric climax, while “Sofa (of My Lethargy)” drifts like a fever dream, serene and surreal. Then, with a wry smile, they close the album run with “Time to Go”. Short, sharp and knowingly anticlimactic. But we’re not done yet.

“Moving,” its cinematic sweep and mournful chorus cuts through the noise with heartfelt clarity. When the crowd joins in on the refrain “We all get up when we’re down” it’s pure communion. “Grace” is cheeky and infectious, a welcome beam of sunlight after the storm. And then, finally “Pumping on Your Stereo.” All bets are off. Coombes prowls the stage like a punk preacher, hurling out the now iconic “Can you hear us humping on your stereo?” as the room explodes. The crowd, feral and ecstatic, answers with gleeful abandon.

Nostalgia can be a dangerous game, but Supergrass don’t just deal in memories. They ignite them. Celebrating 30 years, Gaz Coombes and the gang tore through the record in full like they were still skidding through adolescence on cheap cider and uncontainable energy. They’ve reminded us that I Should Coco wasn’t just a great debut, it was a spark, a sugar rush, a middle finger, a moment. Tonight, that moment roared back to life. And if there’s a better way to celebrate growing older than screaming along to songs you first heard 30 years ago, I haven’t found it. After two hours, three decades and one perfect debut album played in its entirety Supergrass have proven when done right, music is timeless.

Setlist.

1/ I'd Like to Know

2/ Caught by the Fuzz

3/ Mansize Rooster

4/ Alright

5/ Lose It

6/ Lenny

7/ Strange Ones

8/ Sitting Up Straight

9/ She's So Loose

10/ We're Not Supposed To

11/ Time

12/ Sofa (of My Lethargy)

13/ Time To Go

14/ Richard III

15/ Late in the Day

16/ Mary

17/ Moving

18/ Grace

19/ Sun Hits the Sky

20/ Pumping on Your Stereo

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