There’s something deeply moving about watching a band that has weathered the decades come out on stage and play like the world still needs saving. That’s exactly what James did on a humid spring night at Brooklyn Steel in 2025 — a venue whose industrial bones felt perfectly suited for the Manchester veterans’ blend of soaring melody and introspective lyricism. This wasn’t a nostalgia show, though the ghosts of their ‘90s triumphs hung in the air like benevolent spirits. It was something richer: a career-spanning performance from a band still evolving, still experimenting, still beautifully unafraid.
A Soulful Start
The crowd erupted as the house lights dimmed and the first chiming notes of “Attention” cut through the dark. The song, one of James’s more recent openers, has that unmistakable slow-build tension — a statement of purpose. Tim Booth, still the magnetic force of nature he’s always been, stood center stage, eyes closed, body swaying like a conduit of energy. As the song surged toward its climax, he raised his hands heavenward and grinned. “It’s going to be one of those nights,” he said softly. And it was.
From there, the band slid seamlessly into “Dream Thrum,” its hypnotic guitar lines and looping rhythms casting a trance over the room. It’s a song that rewards close listening, and the Brooklyn audience — a mix of longtime fans who discovered James during the Laid era and younger listeners drawn in by recent festival appearances — gave it rapt attention. The band’s sound was tight yet airy, a reminder that after 40 years together, James’s musicianship remains underrated.
The Warm Embrace of Familiar Voices
“Say Something” arrived early in the set, and with it came the first true communal singalong of the night. Booth, with that unmistakable mixture of grace and awkward charm, motioned for the crowd to take the chorus — “Say something, say something, anything!” — and thousands obliged. Guitarist Saul Davies, barefoot as usual, grinned at the joyful noise while Andy Diagram’s trumpet cut through the melody like a bright flare in the dark.
The mood turned more explosive with “Ring the Bells,” one of the band’s most anthemic pieces. The song’s propulsive bassline and percussive intensity reminded everyone that James, at their best, has always been both cerebral and visceral. The lights strobed red and white, Booth spun in circles, and the energy surged from the stage to the rafters.
Then came “Hymn From a Village,” a rare early gem from their Factory Records days that still sounds astonishingly vital. Its wiry post-punk DNA stood out among the more polished later material, and it gave longtime fans a sense of just how far the band has traveled — from scrappy outsiders to arena-tested veterans.
A Setlist That Felt Like a Conversation
James doesn’t perform a “greatest hits” show; they perform a dialogue with their own history. That was clear during the middle stretch of the first set. “Everybody Knows” shimmered with quiet melancholy, Booth’s falsetto carrying a new ache. “One of the Three” and “Five-O” followed, songs that showcase the band’s deft balance between intimacy and grandeur. The pedal steel on “Five-O” was particularly gorgeous — wistful and cinematic, with Larry Gott’s ghost still hovering in the texture of the sound even years after his departure.
“Interrogation” brought a darker edge. The song’s rhythmic dissonance and lyrical self-examination felt almost confessional, Booth delivering the lines with eyes locked on the crowd. By the time “Low Low Low” arrived, the set had built a deep emotional tension. The song’s funky undercurrent and gospel harmonies loosened things up again, leading to one of the evening’s biggest moments: “Getting Away With It (All Messed Up).”
That song, arguably James’s late-career masterpiece, has taken on new meaning in recent years — a defiant anthem of resilience. Booth’s voice soared, cracked, and soared again as the audience shouted every word back. “All messed up,” they sang, “but we’re still here.” It could have closed the show right there, but the band had more to say.
Set 2: A Deeper Dive
After a brief intermission, the lights dimmed once more, and James returned for what felt like an entirely new experience. “Skindiving” opened the second set — slow, meditative, and rich with atmosphere. It was followed by “Knuckle Too Far,” a rare cut that longtime fans greeted like an old friend. These weren’t casual inclusions; James was rewarding those who had followed them through every transformation.
“Sound,” a towering live staple, stretched past ten minutes. It was a journey — building, collapsing, and building again. Booth danced like a man possessed, spinning between microphone stands as the band locked into a hypnotic groove. The audience was entranced, and when the song finally broke into its euphoric crescendo, it felt like catharsis.
“Way Over Your Head” and “Stay” offered a gentler reprieve, both songs showcasing the band’s melodic gifts. Booth’s voice, rich and weathered, carried the vulnerability of a man reflecting on life’s passage without a trace of bitterness. “P.S.” followed — that delicate, mournful ballad from Laid that remains one of the band’s emotional high points. Booth’s delivery was hushed, reverent; when the trumpet solo soared at the end, there were tears in the crowd.
“Lullaby” was a haunting choice, a dreamlike moment that drew the crowd inward before the band reignited the room with “Tomorrow.” Few songs in the James catalog hit as hard in a live setting — the drums driving forward, the guitars shimmering, Booth shouting into the microphone as if urging everyone to keep moving forward.
A Triumphant Closing Stretch
The final stretch of the show felt almost transcendent. “Heads” brought a modern energy, pulsing and defiant, while “Sometimes (Lester Piggott)” erupted into one of those communal singalongs that James fans live for. Booth stood at the edge of the stage, eyes closed, as the audience kept the chorus — “Sometimes, when I look deep in your eyes…” — going long after the band had finished playing. He let the crowd take it, smiling softly, tears in his eyes. It was one of those moments you couldn’t script.
And then, of course, came “Laid.” That unmistakable acoustic strum hit like a lightning bolt, and the entire venue exploded in joyous chaos. Booth danced, Davies twirled his guitar, and everyone screamed, “This bed is on fire with passionate love!” It was pure release — unfiltered, euphoric, timeless.
James closed with “Out to Get You,” a song that perfectly encapsulates everything they do best: tenderness, confession, transcendence. The lights dimmed to a warm amber glow, the band played with delicate restraint, and Booth sang as though whispering directly to each person in the room. “I’m so in love with you,” he crooned, and for that moment, it felt true.
The Alchemy of Longevity
Watching James in 2025 is a reminder of how rare longevity like theirs can be — not just surviving, but thriving artistically. Booth, now in his sixties, moves with the same unselfconscious energy he had in the ‘90s, yet there’s more gravity in his voice. Bassist Jim Glennie remains the unshakable anchor of the group, his playing as melodic and intuitive as ever. Saul Davies’s multi-instrumental brilliance adds color and spontaneity, and the band’s newer members fit seamlessly into the mix, reinvigorating the sound without diluting its essence.
What makes James such a potent live act is that they never coast. Even their biggest hits — “Laid,” “Say Something,” “Getting Away With It” — are approached with renewed energy each time, stretched, reshaped, sometimes reinvented. Their concerts feel alive because they are alive — a dialogue, a conversation between band and audience, past and present.
The Brooklyn Steel Experience
Brooklyn Steel, with its raw, warehouse acoustics, proved the perfect setting for James’s layered sound. The lighting design — part minimalist, part psychedelic — complemented the shifting moods of the setlist. During “Sound,” beams of light rippled through the fog, giving the impression of being underwater. During “Laid,” the house lights came up just enough to illuminate the ecstatic faces singing along.
The intimacy of the venue allowed the nuances of the performance to shine — Booth’s expressive gestures, the interplay between trumpet and guitar, the way the rhythm section built tension with the smallest shifts. It felt like being invited into the band’s emotional universe for two and a half hours.
Final Thoughts
By the time the band left the stage, the crowd wasn’t ready to leave. Even as the lights came up, people lingered — hugging, laughing, some wiping tears. That’s what a James concert does. It doesn’t just entertain; it connects.
For a band whose biggest American hit came more than thirty years ago, James has managed something miraculous: they’ve stayed vital. They’ve grown older without growing old. Booth’s voice may carry more weathered tones now, but the passion — that spiritual undercurrent that’s always defined their music — remains untamed.
Brooklyn Steel witnessed not just a concert, but a communion. Every song, from the tender to the explosive, felt earned. James proved once again that they’re not just survivors of an era — they’re masters of reinvention, poets of resilience, and one of the few bands left who can make an entire crowd feel like they’re part of something sacred.
Letter Grade: B+
Setlist:
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Attention
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Dream Thrum
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Say Something
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Ring the Bells
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Hymn From a Village
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Everybody Knows
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One of the Three
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Five-O
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Interrogation
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Low Low Low
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Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)
Set 2:
12. Skindiving
13. Knuckle Too Far
14. Sound
15. Way Over Your Head
16. Stay
17. P.S.
18. Lullaby
19. Tomorrow
20. Heads
21. Sometimes (Lester Piggott)
22. Laid
23. Out to Get You