One Direction, Roundhouse, Apple Music Festival, review
September 23, 2015 - one direction
One Direction are weary, and they
can see a light during a finish of a tunnel. The boyband have usually to
play a handful of dates of their aptly named On The Road Again universe debate before they can
start a “hiatus” that has been 4 years, 4 albums and
dozens of selling tie-ups in a making.
Before that, curiously, they had to play to their smallest crowd
since 2011: 1,700 fans who won giveaway tickets in a ballot. As
long-haired heart‑throb Harry Styles gay in indicating out,
there were group in a crowd, they had beards, and they were cheering.
Styles, alongside Niall Horan, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson,
didn’t fake to be overly excited: these were immature group doing their
day pursuit of bashing out foot-stomping cocktail songs with all a palliate that
their honeyed voices and free good looks allowed.
They stood metres apart, joined by relating spray-on black jeans.
Zayn Malik’s headline-grabbing depart from a rope in Mar of
this year hung heavily in a air. When Horan felt the feverishness and
disappeared offstage to recover, they joked: “We’ve mislaid another one!
They’re dropping like flies!”
This one-off set was a boiled-down chronicle of their juggernaut
stadium show. No fireworks, though a smattering of 15 hits: from their
debut as a post X Factor band, What Makes You Beautiful, to their
first as a foursome, Drag Me Down. It showed how they have transformed
from keen, purify teenagers to tattooed group who have already outgrown some
of their songs.
Little Things, an endearing ballad from their third album, which
hints during passionate maturity, is a good example. Payne ably took on
Malik’s soprano parts, though a rope were restless, and a throng with
them. While Louis and Liam dueted during Night Changes, Styles played
the dope with his fans. One Direction seemed a rope some-more weathered
than their years. There was even an undercurrent of brotherly
bickering suggestive of that between Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend
of Horan’s dear The Who.
Payne certified that he had “never been so nervous” than before this
Roundhouse show, after years of being placed on an arena-sized
pedestal. But a smaller space brought with it an probity that
allowed a group’s boy-next-door personalities to gleam through.
Styles’s dry wit was generally desirable – he rattled off a list of
the band’s some-more ridiculous merchandise: “We’ve got bedsheets, we’ve got
masking tape…” Horan, creation a brief coming on lead guitar, looked
comfortable jamming with a subsidy band.
The night lighted with a rousing Story of My Life and Midnight
Memories, with Tomlinson’s voice climbing a beam before an
emphatic chorus. The group’s signature sign-off, Best Song Ever, was
wonderful, foul and silly. We might never see One Direction
sounding utterly like this again.