GHOSTS IN THE MACHINES - MIDGE URE RESURRECTS THE SOUL OF ULTRAVOX
- Alan Bryce
- 20 hours ago
- 4 min read
Barbican Hall - 25th May 2026
IMAGES / WORDS ALAN BRYCE
There are gigs, and then there are nights where the past walks onstage, looks you dead in the eye, and dares you to believe it still matters. 25 May at the Barbican Hall was one of those nights. I was there, somewhere between expectation and suspicion, watching Midge Ure step into a room that doesn’t tolerate bluff and prove, quietly but firmly, that he’s still got something real to say.
The Barbican is all angles and restraint, a place that demands attention rather than noise. It suited what was coming. This wasn’t a revival show dressed up as relevance, it felt closer to a deliberate statement, part of this A Man of Two Worlds thread he’s pulling through his work now: past and present sliding over each other, no clear division line.
Anglo-French electronic duo Scenius opened the night, and they didn’t waste time trying to overwhelm the room. A duo dealing in atmosphere, analogue textures bleeding into something modern, all held together by a mood that felt both distant and familiar. They set the tone properly: cool, controlled, slightly melancholic. Less a support act, more a slow adjustment of the room’s pulse.
Then Ure came on, backed by a three-piece band that quietly redefined the whole experience. These weren’t hired hands sticking to parts; they were shape-shifters. Keys, synths, violin, bass, moving between roles in a way that kept everything loose, breathing. The songs didn’t sit still. They shifted, stretched, opened up.
And Ure, yes, he’s older. You can see it; you can hear it. The voice has picked up grit; the high edges aren’t quite where they once were. But instead of pulling back, he leans into it. There’s no attempt to varnish anything. What you get is the sound of time actually doing its work.
And here’s the crucial thing: he performs.
Not theatrically, not with any need to prove a point, but with control. With intent. He knows these songs inside out, and instead of coasting through them, he finds new angles. When he pushes into a chorus, when the band lock in behind him, there’s still that spark, that reminder that this music wasn’t built to sit quietly in history.
All of this sits against the backdrop of the new album, A Man of Two Worlds, his first proper release since 2017’s Orchestrated. You’d expect a heavy push. Instead, he barely touches it. Just the opener, A Different View, slipping in at the start. One track. That’s it. And it feels completely deliberate. He’s not selling the new record; he’s placing it inside the larger story.
The Ultravox material lands hardest, but not in the way you might expect. When Vienna arrives, and it has to, it doesn’t loom over the night like some untouchable relic. It comes in slower, more open, almost cautious at first. The band don’t try to recreate the original sweep; they pull it apart just enough. Violin tracing the edges, synths used sparingly, leaving air where there used to be weight. And Ure stands in the middle of it, guiding it through rather than driving it. It doesn’t explode straight away, it builds, settles, lingers. But when it finally resolves, the reaction is unmistakably bigger. The applause hits harder, runs longer, and carries a kind of release the rest of the set doesn’t quite demand. Not hysteria (this is still the Barbican!) but a clear recognition that this is the song, and that it’s just been handled with care rather than monumentality.
Between songs, he’s dry, grounded, faintly amused. No grandstanding, no myth-building. Just getting on with it.
But the real takeaway, the thing that sticks, is how strong the performance is.
Because it doesn’t feel like someone revisiting old ground. It feels like someone still working, still shaping, still finding a way to make it connect. The control, the pacing, the way he chooses his moments. It all adds up to something that carries weight without ever feeling heavy.
He still brings the heat.
Not all the time, not recklessly, but when it comes, it counts. A line pushed harder than expected, a note held just long enough, the band snapping into place behind him; those moments lift the whole thing.
By the end, the Barbican didn’t feel like a formal hall anymore. It felt shared. Quietly intense. Everyone tuned in.
Walking back out into the night, it stayed with me. Not as nostalgia, but as proof of something holding up under pressure.
Midge Ure is ageing. That’s obvious. But what he delivered on that stage wasn’t faded or token. It was considered, reshaped, and at times genuinely powerful.
And that performance, that balance between restraint and impact, is what made the night land.
Setlist
A Different View
Again we Love (Visage song)
Call of the Wild
Accent on Youth (Ultravox song)
The Ascent (Ultravox song)
Your Name (Has slipped my mind) (Ultravox song)
Astradyne (Ultravox song)
Wastelands
Man of Two Worlds (Ultravox song)
Lament (Ultravox song)
Monster
Vienna (Ultravox song)
Reap the Wild Wind (Ultravox song)
If I was
The Voice (Ultravox song)
Fadse to Grey (Visage song)
Dancing with Tears in my Eyes (Ultravox)
Encore
Yellow Pearl (Phil Lynott cover)
Hymn (Ultravox song)
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