Baxter Dury‘s set at Nottingham’s Rock City feels like stepping into a world that only he fully understands; a Europop dramedy that is both accessible and attractively unsettling. This run of shows sees him revelling in a renewed sense of purpose and carrying the playful swagger of an artist with nothing left to prove, yet still finding joy in reshaping his own mythology.
The new tracks from his latest album, Allbarone, fold naturally into his catalogue, adding a fresh layer of clarity and confidence to his work, and hearing them alongside older favourites make the artistic through-line feel more coherent than ever. This is not simply another stop on a tour, but a chance to watch Dury inhabit his strange, cinematic universe with complete ease: half storyteller and half ringmaster, always slightly amused by the spectacle being created.
Support comes from Joshua Idehen, who opens the night with an immediacy which shakes the audience to attention. His delivery – half spoken and half sung – carries a measured honesty that draws listeners in organically, using the room as though he is leading a conversation, shaping the atmosphere without dominating it and setting the tone for an evening that would be as much about storytelling as performance.
Dury doesn’t announce himself with grand gestures, but with the strange magnetic charm that seems to accompany him almost accidentally. He has perfected a rare ability to appear entirely present while maintaining a vaguely sardonic air, performing and offering commentary on the performance at the same time. The opening notes of ‘Alpha Dog‘ arrives with steady confidence, and from there the night unfolds with a deliberate ease which hints at an artist both comfortable and creatively restless, his vocals melodically direct yet still flecked with wry detachment.
The Allbarone material sits beautifully within the broader tapestry of the set, and although it carries a certain glossy elasticity on record, live it breathes differently, becoming warmer, fuller and more mischievous. The band play with a relaxed precision, never showy, always attuned to Dury’s shifting cadences, and every raised eyebrow or unexpected pause becomes a small architectural feature within the music.
This attention to detail makes the night feel carefully measured without ever losing its looseness.
Older stalwarts such as ‘The Night Chancers‘ and ‘Almond Milk‘ draw immediate recognition from the room, and it’s fascinating to hear how they have developed in a live setting. Some arrangements have been opened up just enough to feel refreshed, while others lean into their own familiarity, prompting the audience to join in as though slipping into a well-worn memory. ‘Palm Trees’ carries its usual hypnotic sway, warm and understated, while ‘Hapsburg’ becomes a slow-building swell rippling through the crowd, and Dury’s vocal delivery, part croon and part conspiratorial whisper, makes even the more rhythmically driven tracks feel like private stories being told to a room full of friends.
One of the most striking aspects of the performance is Dury’s knack for creating intimacy without slipping into sentimentality. His lyrics have long walked a tightrope between humour and heartache, and, when showcased live, this tension is all the more pronounced. He moves with a loose, theatrical grace that never feels rehearsed, timing small gestures as quiet punchlines and allowing held breaths to act as moments of dramatic punctuation. The space between the vocals carry almost as much personality as the lyrics themselves, infusing the room with a sense of shared complicity.
The band’s contribution shapes the entire atmosphere of the night. The basslines are warm and grounding, providing the backbone to songs that often hinge on subtle rhythmic shifts, while the keys add both shimmer and grit. The backing vocals weave themselves softly through the mix, adding colour without distraction, and the result is a sound that feels full but never cluttered, each element placed with careful intention as the audience lean further into the performance.
As the evening progresses, the room becomes increasingly vocal, joining in quietly during certain choruses and letting out bursts of delighted laughter at Dury’s offhand remarks. ‘Miami‘ arrives like a spark catching dry tinder, its louche swagger heightened under Rock City’s neon haze, and the track’s pulse carries a touch of sleazy Euro-disco that turns the space into something sweatier and more restless. ‘Cocaine Man’ pushes things further; its jittery groove transforming the room into something almost ecstatic, and the repetition hits like a mantra as the lights flaring in ice white flashes that makes the place feel briefly weightless.
Allbarone appears with a cooler confidence, its strutting rhythm gliding across the dancefloor as the crowd fall into step. Live, it shimmers with extra colour, the synths slicing through the room like neon reflections on wet pavement, and the performance carries a sly emotional undercurrent, Dury sounding detached and yet strangely exposed. By this point, the gig has tipped fully into its club-influenced second life, a shared pulse spreading through the room until every movement feels slightly elongated, as though time itself has loosened around the edges.
‘Schadenfreude’ then pulled everything into a bright, swirling crescendo, its sly humour turning unexpectedly communal as the beat kicked harder and the room erupted into motion. The lights strobes in saturated violets, pinks and blues, and the crowd moves with an abandon that feels almost cinematic, freeing from themselves for a moment. It’s neon soaked, intoxicating and slightly unhinged, the perfect final descent into the Berlin-style atmosphere that has been building throughout the night and settling into something feverish and irresistible.
The encore gathers together the strands of sharpness, warmth and sly humour that have thread through the performance, weaving them into a final flourish to leave the room beaming. It’s the kind of ending that feels earned rather than obligatory, and when the last notes of ‘Baxter (these are my friends’) fade, the collective exhale across Rock City are almost tangible, a moment of release after a night which has been intimate, theatrical and quietly extraordinary all at once.
featured image: Tom Beard
