Take That Live at the Millenium Stadium, Cardiff 14th June 2011

You may or may not know that here at Win of the Week we're all pretty big fans of the Take That album Progress. Recently, I had the opportunity to see Take That live at Cardiff and promised Tom a write up. It's long, just under 3000 words in fact, so I've included a break so as not to clog up the page, but I'd appreciate any feedback anyone might have. --Billy


If you follow pop music with any level of relevancy you'll remember the heralded reunion of Take That as a quartet back in 2006. They followed up their first effort of the decade two years later with their critically acclaimed album The Circus and even if that title was only in reference to the 12 or so tracks which that album comprised of it's an apt description of what's still in store for you if you get to see Take That Live: A circus, of tremendous proportions, and nothing less. The displays on offer range from ridiculous to flat out over-the-top, sometimes in a slightly derivative manner, but don't take that to be a bad thing. Whenever an idea you see on stage has been used before, the band have clearly spent some time tweaking it to make it even more outrageous than it could have been before and ridiculous and over-the-top might be the highest compliments you could pay to a stage-show that spends so much time and effort trying to utterly boggle as many of your senses as possible.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's worth remembering that not only is this the new and improved Take That of 2006, it's the new and improved Take That quintet thanks to the re-inclusion of all-round entertainer Robbie Williams, joining the band for the first time in 15 years.
Understandably, you might anticipate a few awkward glances from time to time but all of the lads seem genuine, even when Robbie decides to throw the audience for a loop ("I didn't leave, Jason, you were in the room when I was fired. You were the one that fired me," pause for nervous laughter, "Awww, come on, where's my big love, Jase!" followed by a warm embrace.)
Naturally, with this being the first tour featuring all five in 15 years it allows for some interesting formatting for a show...

And by interesting formatting, I do of course mean "THERE'S A GIANT BEHIND YOU, JASON!"

I caught Take That on the 14th June at Cardiff's Millenium Stadium accompanied by approximately 65,000 Take That fans. This is pretty much right in the middle of their tour and is the second largest Stadium that Take That will play in the UK behind Wembley (although the Olympic Stadium in Germany where they will close the tour in July may hold a couple of thousand more).
As the show starts, Take That mount the stage as a foursome to kickstart the affair with Rule the World. It's a solid opener which they play forward as if it were a fairly straight gig and does well to get the ball rolling. After swanning up and down the stage a few times, the boys start moving along a catwalkleading to a platform at centre of the stadium before positioning themselves at each corner and beginning a rendition of Greatest Day. So far, so good and they're playing up the audience by taking a quarter of those attending into their grasp. It's a classic boy band trick, focus on a few and steal their hearts and having been in this game for 20 years, Take That certainly know how to deliver the goods.
Hold up a Light is next and before anybody has sung a verse the platform is adorned by dancers, all covered in white dress with white pantomime masks on. The choreography for these dancers is impeccable and the band continue strong, even when literally surrounded by more dancers than one could count and as the song closes each the dancers manage to pull, out of absolutely nowhere, a chain which they start swinging around and the end of that chain lights on fire. Seeing 20 or so dancers doing this in close proximity to each other as well as the most popular band in Britain (whilst they continue singing entirely unfazed) is simply one of those sights that astounds and should be sought out.

It wasn't until the 6th hour of searching that I realized that this scene does not translate well to photographs...

For Patience, the song that bought Take That blazing back into public memory, the band goes back to playing it relatively straight. One key concern, though, is the enthusiasm with which Gary Barlow practically begs the audience to sing along with them, concerning for two reasons: Firstly, asking 65,000 tone-deaf pop music fans to sing along to one of the most difficult choruses in recent ballad history was never going to end well. Second, when 65,000 tone-deaf pop music fans warble along to one of the most difficult choruses in recent ballad history, it becomes nigh on impossible to hear the voices that everyone paid to listen to leading to the final chorus, where everyone sort of half-heartedly hums along so that we might be able to hear the voices that we wanted to hear and the entire mood just sort of shambles along for the brief interlude between Patience and the next performance.
But what a performance is in store next...
Shine may have been from Take That's album Beautiful World, but it's the song that evokes their carnival nature more than any other and they know this. It starts with a rabbit dancing down the catwalk followed by a huge Caterpillar followed by, well, just about every single character from Alice in Wonderland. Amidst the chaotic ritualistic splendour that occurs atop the centre-platform over the next minute or two, you could be entirely forgiven for not notice when the band themselves appear, if not for the inclusion of the music. Dressed in periodic clothing viewed through a tripped out haze, the band go a long way to evoking Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts band and the wonderworld theme is only solidified when you realize that the piano that Barlow is playing is 10 times to big and melted in a swirled curl around his body. No, I don't know how everything got on this small stage. No, I don't know how they're all managing to perform flawlessly. No, I don't especially like the song Shine that much. But am I impressed? Christ, yes, I am.

I would like to tell you what is happening here, it's just that I haven't a goddamned clue myself.

As the band and the circus make their way back up the catwalk (with this songs lead vocalist Mark Owen riding the goddamned caterpillar) the screen back on the main stage props up with the rabbit, now absent from the stage, chilling in Wonderland. The band run up to the screen, open a hatch and jump inside, appearing on the screen. They speak to the rabbit who takes off his head to reveal...oh, you probably knew this was coming, Robbie Williams.

Because nothing says family-friendly entertainment like demonic face-paint.

After a brief video of Robbie running around like an absolute maniac, a hatch opens at the top of the screen (a good 25 feet above the stage floor) and out he jumps. The backing band plays a sustained opening of Let Me Entertain You, and Robbie commands the stage. It's an overused term, but applicable here. He screams, he snarls. He jumps up and down and he doesn't just own the venue, he owns everybody and every ounce of their attention. He grabs a mic and starts howling along to the song. Everybody has always said that Williams is more an entertainer than a singer and no more does it show than when he's roaring along to his anthem. We all know the words, we all know the tune. He dances, screams and jokes in the midst of his most important song and it's delightful. Fireballs erupt across the stage, the heat blitzing the entire arena and Robbie prances around entirely unfazed. His manic energy compared to the clean cut image of the quartet that previously adorned the showfloor say a lot about why they might have gone their seperate ways a decade and a half ago. Take That rely on a circus to carry the tunes, Robbie will get by with a few pyrotechnics to add a little extra punch to the proceedings. They're a choir of angels and, although it's imagery strictly held for rock'n'roll, he is the Devil of the pop world.
Once the music and the audience have died down slightly, Robbie, looks down, starts pulling at his trousers and looks back up. "I've split me keks." he cries with laughter. Looking offstage he's calling out "Do we have any more trousers or am I doing the night in these?" Throwing comedy into the middle of a pop concert, he's more of an entertainer than a singer. He continues to prove this with Rock DJ, another Robbie classic. Like the video to that track, the stage becomes a roller disco with dancers skating up and down the length of the floor weaving in and out of Williams who boyishly chases them around. It's wild and energetic just as it should be and sends the message that although Robbie is sober now, he's not afraid to raise a little hell.

Fortunately, Robbie elected to keep his skin on this time much to the relief of EVERYBODY'S SANITY!

From here, Robbie dives into Come Undone, throwing an entirely different anthem at the audience. It's slower, but he doesn't let up the energy, Singing into the cameras with a cheeky grin so everyone can get a glimpse on the towering screends on either side of the stage.
At this point, the catwalk linking the stage and the center-platform has been pulled down and in its place is a large mobile crane suspending a platform which Robbie jumps onto, lies upon facefirst hanging over the edge and sings Feel. At this point the crane begins moving over the audience and Robbie is literally holding the hands of hundreds of his fans as he sings. It's a nice touch for a song about contact and as Robbie emphasises the song and it's relationship with the people who love the music, he puts in a credible performance as a musician for the first time of the evening. Even if the entire time, he's foolishly pointing out and showing off the hole in his trousers, encouraging fans to take pictures and post them online.
Finally, Robbie gets to, arguably, his most famous song, Angels. It's a song that he plays perfectly: he stands on a stage and sings it and that's it. The backscreen shows Chinese Lanterns taking off and filling the sky and the whole time Robbie holds off on the stunts and jokes for three minutes to deliver his most impressive and arguably, his most important song. Even if Robbie is more of an entertainer than a singer, even if his vocal range is limited, when he stands up and belts a tune out, it's inspiring and Angels at Cardiff is a good sign that Robbies years of entertaining have left him with an instinct for when to play the fool and when to just get up and sing. Here he does the latter.
And at the end of the song he takes his trousers off. Because why the hell not.

Nothing says "Mother would be proud." Like standing trouserless in front of 65,000 Welsh fangirls.

The lights all blow out, the screens turn to static and for a few seconds, there's nothing. Then there's a word. "Standing"
The lights come up and the screen has disappeared. In it's place, there is a wall of water and dancers performing vertical acrobatics up and down the wall, whilst being pelted with Water. Atop the structure is a frame whereupon all five members of Take That stand, singing The Flood. It's a suitably epic introduction and visual metaphor for the song that relaunched this quintet. As the song comes to its climax, Robbie takes a leap off of the structure, bought smoothly down to the stage by wireworks, whilst the other four are bought down through the flood in elevators. They finish the song and this is your first good look of these five enjoying performing live. Everything preceeding this was pre-show entertainment. This is the real Take That, and they're back.

This just in: The Flood...not really a metaphor?

As Mark Owen launches into the verses of SOS, you're treated to a rare glimpse amidst this enthralling circus: Five men holding their own during an up-tempo song on a stage. No dancers, no theatrics. Just some bouncy movement, flashy lights and a great upbeat track. Whilst a giant robotic man gradually emerges from behind the wall of water onto the stage. We'll come back to him later.
As Underground Machine starts to play, the catwalk is raised once more and out of the platform come a number of men looking like Shaolin monks. The sole song from Progress written solely by Williams plays out like a sort of dance-off between the band and the monks with the heavy ounding beat working to focus the attention on the movement from these dancers, all the way through the track until their dramatic exit leap from the platform.
Kidz is arguably the most dynamic and visually fuelled song on display, with the boys all changing into black and white outfits, and steapping to the edges of the platform as performers act out an elaborate chess game directed by the band. Midway through, the entire affair screeches to a halt and suddenly, its a Robbie Williams rap solo lifted directly from Rudebox. It's tough to say whether it was a contractual obligation of Robbies return, a suggestion from another member or a joke that simply did not stop when it should have. Regardless, it's an inspired move working bizarely well with the diversity of songs that have preceeded it so far.

Take That, Chess!

If everything so far has seemed somewhat overblown...well, don't say I didn't warn you at the beginning of this review. Either way, the minimalistic performance of Pretty Things is a welcome sight. Probably the best song from Progress gets a respectful treatment live as the band sing the song on the main stage with a single solitary ballerina pirouetting her way across the platform and catwalk. It's simple, like the song, and like all striking images that simplicity somehow makes the entire affair all the more breathtaking. Pretty Things might have been the one song where the hordes of screaming Take That fans really silenced in order to just take in what was being shown and it was a truly great moment that, more than any other, I'd give anything to see again.


At this point in the show, your appreciation of Take That's earliest works is going to play a big factor into your enjoyment of the show. Personally, I couldn't care less for their earlier ventures but their sweeping canvas of imagery continued on a tremednous scale. This set of the show opened with the band sat around a piano toasting to their careers, starting with a piano medley of A Million Love Songs, Babe and Everything Changes, before launching into a performance of Back For Good, which feels a bit ironic given that Back For Good was written just before the band originally broke up.
Continuing the classic Take That venture, they bounce into Pray, showcasing their older music with an older style, more choreographed synchronised dance moves. It's hugely reminiscent of the style that made them a hot commodity back in '96 and although in any other context in 2011 it would seem embarassing, here it plays out more like an old memory. All the while, that tremendously giant robot is still in the background, this time opening it's arms outwards.

"No seriously, there was a rabbit, and a giant chess game, and an even bigger robot, and ...no, I wasn't high!"

For a moment, the band disappear. The robot lies down on it's back and after a moment, the band emerge scattered all over the thing. Two on its hands, two on its chest and one on it's feet. They're all wearing black jackets studded with LED's that light up in different colours and as the robot begins to move, they bound headfirst into Love, Love, the new single from their recent EP Progressed (which is also being used to promote the new X-Men movie). It's a great track and the boys continue doing it justice until the robot hits the centre platform.
The boys close out the set with Never Forget. They perform admirably for a song so dated and as they do so, the robot begins to stand up until it has essentially built its way up to a standing crucifix position.
But of course, that's not it. We need an encore. It opens with Robbie breaking out one of his slowest tracks, No Regrets. He sings it to the audience, to the band, to everybody. As the strings build up to their climax, the 5 join hands, huddle into a circle around a raised area on the platform and...jump up to it as Relight My Fire begins pounding away. It's an utterly infectious tune and the heart that all of these boys put into the music make it impossible not to enjoy.

What the HELL is that/?!

The show is closed, proper, with Eight Letters, the final song from the album that brought these five back together. It's not the best song in their repertoire but it is ultimately a fitting end to a triumphant show. The boys sing it out as well as they have sung any other song throughout the evening and that's something to be proud of. Was the show perfect? No, nowhere near. It was too scattered to be consistently loved by anyone but the most hardcore fans and some of the performances were dramatically overshadowed by the circus-like staging that Take That have been unable to resist littering their shows with for the past two years. But was it the return of the Take That that many grew up with, was it the experience that any Take That fan of the past few years would want and was it a generally spectacular experience across the board? To all of those questions, the only possible answer is yes. But all of that is moot compared to the big question: Was this show so important to the band that it was worth shelling out an astonishing £15million to get it right? Judging from their expressions, their interactions and the love that Take That have for each other and all of their fans, I can only assume that once again, the answer was yes.

Moral of the story? Transformers ain't got shit on Take That.