Review

In an era where live albums often serve more as contractual obligations than artistic statements, *James (Live at the Acropolis)* lands with the elegant, weathered weight of something far more enduring. Recorded beneath the twilight skies of Athens’ Herod Atticus Odeon — that hallowed amphitheatre carved into the side of the Acropolis — the Mancunian stalwarts deliver a set that’s less about bombast and more about communion: between band and audience, past and present, grit and grace. James have long walked the line between art rock and anthemic transcendence, and here, that tension finds its perfect stage. Frontman Tim Booth, all sinewy presence and spiritual fervour, sounds as though he’s singing to the gods themselves, not merely the assembled faithful. The ancient stones seem to absorb and then echo his voice, lending old favourites like “Sometimes” and “Sit Down” a reverent gravity. But this isn’t a museum piece. Backed by a full orchestra and gospel choir — arrangements that could easily tip into excess — James instead find new contours in their catalogue. “Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)” becomes a defiant hymn, while “The Shining” is stripped down and delivered with the intimacy of a whispered confession. Credit must go to Joe Duddell’s arrangements, which elevate without ever overpowering. There are moments, of course, when the drama risks tipping into self-indulgence. The grandeur of the setting can occasionally threaten to swallow the band’s more subtle charms. But even then, there’s something profoundly British about it all — a band once pigeonholed as baggy survivors now repurposing their hits into cathedral-sized meditations on joy, regret, and resilience. For fans, this is a gift. For the uninitiated, it’s a compelling invitation. *Live at the Acropolis* doesn’t just capture a performance; it captures a band still finding new ways to mean it. Beneath ancient marble, James sound timeless.

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