My eardrums have survived the aural massacre of My Bloody Valentine and the hammering of Nine Inch Nails, but that was nothing compared to the head-crushing decibel assault at last Wednesday night's concert by Robbie Williams. I could hardly hear the band, so loud were the screams of the teenage audience, and the sound reverberated like an earthquake around the Olympia Theatre.
You see, Robbie Williams used to be in Take That, something he's eager to put in the past; however, the adoring fans won't let him forget. One girl held aloft a banner which enthused: "Point your erection in my direction." Another read: "Rob, you ride."
With closely-cropped hair and light blue workwear, Williams looks less like a teenage heart-throb and more like a regular bloke on tour with his mates - a sort of Liam Gallagher lite with added attitude.
He seemed bemused at the adulation, but his bewilderment turned to satisfaction when it became apparent that the audience knew every word of songs like Let Me Entertain You, Lazy Days and South Of The Border.
Williams no longer trades in fluffy, choreographed teeny pop; his music is now firmly in the Britpop category, and songs like Killing Me, Angels and Old Before I Die are Beatles-influenced guitar tunes with enough hooks to keep the crowd happy. He even sings like Lennon - Julian Lennon, that is - except when he goes all Sid Vicious for a vengeful punk version of Take That's Back For Good. Good, clean, ear-shattering fun.
