Lightning Seeds '25 - Verso Media

Another night, another trip down nostalgia lane — this time to Ipswich Corn Exchange for The Lightning Seeds, my third time seeing them in just ten months. Some bands wear thin after repeated viewings, but Ian Broudie and company still have that knack for delivering a comforting evening of melodic pop done properly.

This outing was with a slightly reshuffled crew: the stalwart Hammy, sister Tamara and Wellers joined me as Neil had to pull out, while Jimmy and Coxy braved it down on the floor rather than up in the seats with us. Always good to have familiar faces around — and as seems to happen at these things, there were a few surprise encounters too. Torchy from the old Cinram days turned up in The Cricketers beforehand, and I bumped into Carl Mann and Clive Fisher at the venue. Small world, smaller venue.

One of the highlights of the night didn’t even come from the stage. Hammy and I had a typically daft exchange when he spotted the merch stand:
Hammy: “Look JV, they’ve got LPs!”
Me: “Nah, I think I’ll give it a miss.”
Hammy: “It’s blue.”
Me: “One please, sir!”
#ColouredVinylWhore

A drink in Cricketers before tea at the Food Hall and one more (all soft drinks) at Three Wise Monekys before the gig itself — it’s exactly what you expect from The Lightning Seeds: crisp, tuneful, and reassuringly tight. Broudie’s voice still carries that slightly fragile charm that fits the material perfectly. You don’t leave with your ears ringing or your heart racing, but there’s an undeniable satisfaction in watching a setlist stacked with songs that have quietly soundtracked your life.

It’s not one for the “Top Ten Gigs I’ve Ever Been To” list, but it’s miles clear of the bottom. It’s that middle ground — a warm, nostalgic glow rather than full-blown euphoria. “Lucky You,” “Pure,” and “Sense” all hit the mark nicely, and there’s something comforting about the unshowy professionalism of it all.

The only misstep? That bloody football song. No matter how many times you hear it, it’s still as subtle as a pub singalong at closing time — but let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be a Lightning Seeds gig without it.

Change

Sugar Coated Iceberg

Be My Baby

Life of Riley

Verso’s Moan:
People who go to gigs just to talk. Loudly. To their mates. For the entire bloody set. You’ve paid good money to stand in front of live musicians and then proceed to treat it like a social club with background music. They need their hard drives checking. Seriously.

So no, you don’t walk out shouting “Oh my god, that was amazing!” — but you do walk out content. Ninety minutes of solid musicianship, proper songs, and a reminder that not every gig needs fireworks. Sometimes it’s enough just to feel you’ve spent an evening in good company, listening to tunes that have stood the test of time.

Verdict:
A steady 7/10 — familiar, melodic, and undeniably British.