Supergrass
Roundhouse, London

A pop lifetime ago, an Oxford trio emerged as smirking wee oiks, singing of confessing to their mum that they've been arrested in Caught By The Fuzz and keeping "our teeth nice and clean" on Alright.
Indeed, so boisterously effervescent was their youth that Supergrass have found middle age a frightening proposition.
And if declining sales and lowered expectations were insufficiently debilitating, last summer bassist Mick Quinn managed to break his back, apparently while sleepwalking.
The enforced rest has revitalised both Quinn and Supergrass. Suprisingly, their forthcoming sixth album, Diamond Hoo Ha, is their least tired in years.
Live, too, they have evolved and not merely because leader Gaz Coombes is now joined by two brothers: Rob on garage-esque keyboards and Charly mostly on tambourine, but more often on beer swigging. The result, a platoon of overtly intrusive roadies notwithstanding, was a band reborn.
As if embarrassed by their teenage selves, there was no Alright (no great loss, if we're speaking frankly), while Caught By The Fuzz, delivered without the auxiliary Coombeses, was tagged on at the very end.
Other hits blossomed in the new widescreen format. Moving, Sun Hits The Sky and Pumping On Your Stereo provided an exhilarating pre-encore triple whammy; the sombre St Petersburg exuded Coldplay-esque gravitas and someone was so overcome by excitement during Brecon Beacons that they threw their jacket over a startled Gaz Coombes.
With Danny Goffey pulverising his drums to the point where he complained of finger blisters, the new material (and a spirited trek through The Police's Next To You) hurtled out of the traps: Bad Blood was more Iggy Pop that Iggy Pop's recent work, while Ghost Of A Friend and Rough Knuckles were confirmation that Supergarss have finally put away their childish things.
Adulthood rather becomes them.
4/5

John Aizlewood, Evening Standard - 17 March 2008