Roy Harper Review 27.9.2025 – Bridgewater Hall Manchester

Roy Harper Review 27.9.2025 – Bridgewater Hall Manchester

It was with some trepidation that Henry and I headed off from Driffield to Manchester in bright Yorkshire sunshine.

He was now 84, was his voice going to hold up?

Could those fingers still pick that guitar?

At the best of times he stumbled over words, would he still be able to remember all those complex poetic lyrics?

Would that sharp wit and spontaneous insightful comments leap off his tongue?

In short, was he still up to the job?

Questions stalked my thoughts like spies.

On the way we played some vintage Harper. I chose Come Out Fighting Ghenghis Smith because it harked back to the times when I first started going to his gigs fifty-eight years ago! We topped it off with Burn The World which seemed to epitomise the present state of the world.

As we approached Manchester it started to rain.

Inside the magnificent Bridgewater Hall, with its 2,341 capacity, I couldn’t help but marvel at how far the lad has come. Les Cousins had a capacity of 200 when rammed!

I looked around at the remnants of the sixties underground (some with eager kids in tow). We come in all shades of bright colour, lengths or absence of hair and assorted sizes – some with sticks, crutches and wheelchairs. It was great to meet up with so many old friends! Hanging on to a fading philosophy? The refugees gather to shelter from the storm. We’re older and wiser, perhaps a shade less idealistic, more realistic! I sat on our plush padded seat and thought back to the hard wooden seats of yesteryear.

Could Roy recreate the vibe?

The lights dimmed and the ageing raver stepped out from the wings. A roar went up? ‘So what’s all this?’ quipped Roy. Roy was back. He made his way to his seat riding on the crest of great affection. Fittingly he informed us that he was heading back to 1969 when he was twenty-eight and dedicated his first song to Lonnie Donnegan, the skiffle King who inspired his first venture into showbiz with his brothers asThe Brothers. How Does It Feel. Well it felt great. The voice, the guitar and the asides, all spot on. All questions answered. It was real!

Nick came out on stage to another rapturous reception. Roy told us how he’d written the next number – Another Day – in a caravan at the Cambridge Folk Festival before having a swipe at US Senators and informing us that the world’s an ass (as if we didn’t know). Immediately Nick and Roy gelled into a glorious, intuitive blend. It’s genetic!

With a kick at Ted Cruz and the barbed quip – ‘Who are these people?’ – we were back in the familiar Harperian social commentary with Hors d’Oeuvres. Took me straight back to the early seventies where Roy would direct the number at the music press drinking at the bar. The two melded guitar runs sure made me think! This was just the starter. The main meal was still to come.

We stayed back in 1968 as Roy recounted his first crossing of the Atlantic and the fabled A and B chords. The haunting 24 Hours of Sunset gave his powerful, controlled vocal full sway. As good as ever.

Roy was enjoying himself. ‘I’m 84,’ he gleefully reminded us, as much astounded by it as we were, ‘It’s amazing!’

The stage was set for an abbreviated epic as Roy told us about an interview in St Antonio, Texas where he first came in contact with the insane US gun culture.  The early MAGA cult did not take kindly to I Hate The Whiteman. One of the white men, who he suggested could not be considered human, threatened to come and ‘put you out of your misery’. Seemed that the bare-foot dream of life was not free to laugh and cry its fill! We loved it though.

Roy’s 70’s dream of living together with all of his friends got off to a hesitant start but gained in momentum as it progressed – the delicate melodic Commune providing a great vehicle for duelling guitars.

Roy reiterated his detestation of social sanctioned murder asking ‘Do we need to be savages? Are we savages?’  But the power chords of Hangman suffered from tuning problems with a little wobbly stumbles. None-the-less Roy’s chords and strums provided a sound base for Nick’s lyrical notes and chords to dance across.

The interval seemed to settle him back down.

The warmth resumed as Roy entered from the wings and was made to feel at home with an eruption of joy, the huge hall once again becoming an intimate setting with all the same inane heckling.

The intro for this traditional song didn’t mention Bob Dylan or Paul Simon by name but, for the first time that I’ve heard, sanctioned plagiarism and admitted that ‘borrowing and thieving’ was a valid means for providing inspiration and songs ‘travelled’. His still nimble fingers treated us to a perfect version of North Country.

Nick rejoined him for a brilliant Hallucinating Light which he dedicated to Mocy, Nick’s mum, reflecting poignantly that ‘she was a good girl’. I delighted in a typical Harper moment as he stopped partway in to explain the lyrics. The poetry always meant so much, enough to pause and dissect. We were moved by that familiar laugh as he explained that he was referring to his eyes struggling across a room full of people to fix on the goggle box – where ‘the sick majority infest the myths of doom’. Those guitars intermeshed, the voice soared as the years dropped away.

A new song ‘Man in a Glass Cage?’ had Roy explaining his understanding of Pater Noster. As a lad his father would take him fishing off the North pier at Blackpool. They used a heavy baited five hooks that ‘would take your ear off’ if not cast right. It was called the paternoster

East of The Sun was an absolute triumph. He explained that he had written it for his first girlfriend, Gillian, who was present that evening. He’d lived next door to her when he was 6 and recalled teasing her by not giving her ball back. A most beautiful, heartfelt rendition with Nick beautifully picking out the notes for the first verse in a most poignant manner followed by Roy’s vocals caressing the memories.

When An Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease elicited the story of his grandfather playing for Didsbury and asking his mother if he should pursue it as a career with her replying ‘Nay lad, there’s no money in it’. Once again the two guitars gelled into sublime lyrical phrasing for an immaculate rendition.

Even though we had been treated to some brilliant stuff The Same Old Rock surpassed everything. Roy explained some of the lyrics – the pope always straggling a hundred years behind where society is – the lock being religion. Then they launched into the best version of the song I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen it duetted with Jimmy Page and Any Roberts but never better than this. The power and intermeshing of the two guitars was monumental, the poetic lyrics majestic, the vocal soared in what was a consummate performance. He still has that high register! Those guitars thundered, explosive, incendiary. They burnt the hall down in a feast of synergy.

They made their exit but the crowd went mad. There was no way to escape an encore. A humbled Roy came back to provide us with a new song we’d heard those six years ago. I Loved My Life. He claims to be a simple human and tells us that life is but a moment. Time is short but that he has loved his time here. It was appropriate.

We loved the time he’d spent with us. A chance to once again sample the delights of a legend.

The sophisticated beggar left us with the words: ‘Time is against me – but I hope to be back again.’

We hope so too! What a concert! A sharing. A few stumbles but we forgive them all – once again we had shared a magic evening.

As we drove back through the torrential rain all our questions had been answered!

Thank you Roy (and Nick). A privilege and a treat. ‘Aye Lad, I always knew you had it in you.’