If only all homecomings could be this joyful.
There are homecomings, and then there are homecomings. For the Levellers, returning to Brighton for a huge outdoor show in Hove Park felt like something rather special. Following the swelter of the summer, standing in a park in glorious sunshine without worrying about heatstroke was a joy in itself. But as thousands of people gathered, it became clear that this was going to be about much more than the weather. There was anticipation in the air, a sense that people had come together not simply to see a band, but to celebrate something that has been part of their lives for decades.
The afternoon began with a succession of strong performances from four very different support acts. The Meffs immediately raised the temperature with a ferocious set of punk energy, sharp songs and excellent crowd interaction. A 20-second mosh pit suggested they had achieved their primary objective. Local band Brakes brought their distinctive indie rock and were clearly popular with a substantial section of the crowd, while fellow Sussex band Kid Kapichi brought urgent musicianship and sharply observed, often cynical lyrics, their performance having something of the restless energy of IDLES. Sleeper then delivered a thoroughly enjoyable 90s nostalgia trip, with Louise Wener clearly relishing her time on stage. A mash-up of Atomic and Love Will Tear Us Apart was particularly good fun, before Sale of the Century provided the perhaps inevitable finale. Any one of these bands could have made for a satisfying day out. But then came the Levellers.
The crowd was enormous, packed tightly into the park, and remarkably diverse. There were plenty of greying heads, naturally, but also families, younger fans and, directly in front of me, one teenager whose enthusiasm was among the most infectious I have encountered at a gig for some time. The Levellers were celebrating 35 years of Levelling the Land, and the obvious danger with such an anniversary is that it becomes an exercise in nostalgia. Instead, what followed demonstrated just how alive these songs remain.
The album was performed in its entirety, beginning with One Way. Everyone seemed to know every word, and the singing began almost immediately. Yet this was far more than a faithful recreation of a much-loved record. The band gave the song richness and depth, opening out into a wonderfully psychedelic instrumental passage before returning to its familiar shape. There was something moving about hearing thousands of people sing a song written 35 years ago, but there was no sense that this was music belonging only to the past. The teenager in front of me was proof of that.
The Game took the collective energy up another level. Thousands of people were singing, dancing, jigging and jumping together, and the joy was palpable. After so many years of playing together, the Levellers have developed an extraordinary sense of unison. Everyone seems to know instinctively what everyone else is about to do, but there is nothing mechanical about it. They also look as though they are having a great time doing it.
The Boatman was as mournful as ever, but the pain of the song was somehow lessened by a few thousand people singing it together. Liberty Song began atmospherically, with didgeridoo creating an unexpected soundscape before the song exploded into energy. Violin, guitars, drums and Mark Chadwick’s voice were thrown into the mix with almost reckless abandon. It was a reminder that one of the pleasures of hearing a favourite album live is discovering just how much more there is in the songs.
By Far from Home, spontaneous clapping had broken out, and large numbers around me were dancing; some of the dancing was coordinated, some just enthusiastic. Sell Out saw the band jumping in unison, its anger still sounding remarkably relevant. Looking around, you could see what this music means to people: friends enjoying a day together, families sharing a love of music, couples lost in the moment. For a band whose music has always been concerned with community and connection, there was something wonderfully appropriate about seeing that community assembled in front of them.
Another Man’s Cause began with mournful harmonica, its subject rooted in a particular history, but its emotional force remains undiminished. At times the crowd was singing so loudly that it seemed almost to compete with the band. The Road, despite the weariness contained within the song, was performed with such hope and lift that its melancholy became strangely uplifting. The Riverflow was perhaps the easiest audience participation of the afternoon, but the remarkable thing was that the crowd still had the energy for it. Battle of the Beanfield then brought a rockier edge, with the audience matching the band’s intensity.
And that was Levelling the Land. An entire album played live, and somehow it felt like only the beginning.
Julie initially featured just Chadwick and an acoustic guitar, yet the crowd remained completely engaged. More guitar and violin were gradually added, before World Freak Show and Dreams and Revolutions restored the full force of the band. Carry Me was beautifully rendered, while Dirty Davey and Hope Street demonstrated that there is still no shortage of energy. Hope Street remains one of the great Levellers anthems, its plaintive cry as relevant now as ever. England My Home brought another full-on blast of sound, with its refrain, “You cut your own throat then you let it bleed / Misleading our people from what we’re all made”, still capable of landing with considerable force.
Then came the encore. The didgeridoo returned for This Garden, with The Meffs’ singer, Lily Hopkins, joining the band. Chadwick finds a wonderful place somewhere between singing and speaking the words, adding real weight to “Blood, sweat and tears really don’t matter”. Perhaps that is part of what the Levellers have always understood: that what matters is what we do with the time and the people around us.
Just the One provided a wonderful piece of theatre. The song swirls and builds, gathering pace and intensity until it feels almost capable of blowing the roof off a venue that has no roof. The Devil Went Down to Georgia then provided a wonderfully unexpected dose of Americana before Beautiful Day brought everything home. “What a beautiful day“, Chadwick sang. And yes, it was.
There is an argument that the Levellers might be one of the best bands you can see live. After this, it is difficult to argue against it. They have the songs, certainly, but that alone is not enough. What makes them extraordinary is the way those songs have become part of a shared history without ever becoming trapped there. At Hove Park, 35-year-old songs were being sung by teenagers and lifelong fans alike. The music was nostalgic without being backwards-looking, political without becoming didactic, and raucous without losing its warmth.
Most of all, it was communal. For a few hours, thousands of people came together, and the world seemed a little more joyful, a little more connected and perhaps even a little more hopeful.
If only all homecomings could be this joyful.
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