Photo: Katie Clare

When The Cribs last played Manchester back in February, the show was as raucous and as sweaty affair as one might imagine; the ground floor of The Ritz becoming a heaving throng, sweat dripping and limbs flailing. What else you may have noticed if you were at that show, is how the then-new tracks, 'An Ivory Hand' or 'Pink Snow' for instance, despite fitting in with established tracks sonically, brought about a lull in the proceedings thanks to the crowd's unfamiliarity with the material.

Six months have passed since then however, and the material from From All My Sisters now sits snugly in The Cribs' canon, as if it had been there from the start. As a result of this, tonight's set is back-boned by material taken from their most recent cut, and, as if to prove to the band that their new material is just as loved as their old, an early rendition of 'Different Angle' receives the largest mosh-pit of the night so far.

Whilst last time the only set back came from the crowd's unfamiliarity with the tracks, tonight's comes early on in the form of questionable sound levels. Both throughout opener 'Ancient History' and following track 'I'm A Realist' singer/guitarist Ryan Jarman is plagued with guitar troubles; individual notes are barely discernible, though as is the case with the latter, the crowd participation more than fills in the gaps.

By fifth track 'Finally Free' any issues have been well and truly ironed out, and the energy exuded from the band is wholly transferred to the crowd, the writhing mass of fans beneath us a sight much like that from February; sweat-soaked and beer-fueled bodies throwing themselves stage-wards, in adoration.

Though the Albert Hall might not be the most intimate of venues the city has to offer (such intimacy is forgone in favour of its exquisite acoustics), The Cribs somehow manage to make the lofty venue feel more like one the Northern Quarter's spit 'n' sawdust pubs; even from the balcony the charm and charisma of the band is evident, and is what we can only assume is the secret to their longevity and lasting appeal.

With a veritable arsenal of tracks in their catalogue, obvious fan favourites are bound to get neglected, and tonight personal favourite 'Another Number' is notably missing from the set. With such an array at their disposal however, songs that were once reserved for an encore now take their place mid-set, and the final trio of tracks takes the shape of 'Mirror Kisses', 'Men's Needs' and new(ish) track 'Pink Snow'.

It's a bold move ending on a recent number, and the fact the response it receives is more subdued than the more established tracks it accompanies is understandable, given the rapturous response brought about by the aforementioned 'Mirror Kisses' and 'Men's Needs' respectively.

"Manchester has always treated us as one of its own," bassist Gary states "Tonight might be the best show we've ever played here." Far from being an aficionado of the band I've only managed to see them a handful of times and can't attest to any of those particularly early shows. There's an element of truth in what Gary says though, and while many of the band's contemporaries have fallen by the wayside, The Cribs torch continues to burn just as bright, if not brighter, than ever. 

After three years of silence it’s only apt that Beirut return to the UK in an old worn out chapel hidden in the centre of Manchester.

Walking through the peeling plastered walls and in to the huge cavern like hall, the band have clearly chosen a hidden gem for their warm up gig. Stood in the crowd it feels like we’ve been transported to a secret bunker before the band’s huge unveiling – a headlining slot at Green Man Festival.

As the band open with the light notes of ‘Nantes’ it’s impossible not to smile as the song builds into a magnificent brass arrangement. Echoing around the impressive hall, the full force of the band’s volume is overwhelming as Zac Condon’s vocals carry both a melancholy and celebratory tone.

Mixing and matching across albums, EPs and live favourites ‘Santa Fe’, ‘East Harlem’ and ‘Vagabond’ come and go with ease but it’s ‘Postcards From Italy’ and ‘Elephant Gun’ that transforms the room into a feast of Eastern-European celebrations. The brass filled chorus’ leave audiences members bopping with a spontaneous glee, whooping one horn solo to the next. Condon’s voice never falters as he effortlessly switches instruments before conducting his ensemble into another rousing sing-a-long. Only a fit of giggles during ‘Forks & Knives (Le Fete)’ temporarily shatters the bands’ near perfect performance.

A certain energy is also noticeably absent. As the group launch into another brass-led hook, there’s a lack of excitement seen in previous live performances. New songs are interspersed with the old but it’s not until ‘No No No’ that there’s a sense of progression from the traditional brass arrangements.

As the march of ‘The Gulag Orkestar’ closes with a huge procession it feels only natural for Beirut’s music to be heard in such grand surroundings, but three years after The Rip Tide we can’t help but yearn for something new.