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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Entertainment
Caroline Sullivan

All Time Low review – idiot-bantz and power pop for the kids

Alex Gaskarth and Jack Barakat of All Time Low at the O2 Arena, London.
Cakewalk … Alex Gaskarth and Jack Barakat of All Time Low at the O2 Arena, London. Photograph: Gus Stewart/Redferns

All Time Low have been derided by some as “cookie-cutter pop-punk”, as if there were something wrong with making four-minute guitar songs that place a higher value on catchiness than outlier-haggardness (though that also gets a look in). The Maryland foursome, who bring an additional guitarist on stage, are the current kings of the sector also populated by You Me at Six and Fall Out Boy: 2015’s pin-sharp album Future Hearts topped the chart in the UK, pushing All Time Low up to arena-headlining status.

The suggestion that they lack welly is proved wrong with the opening bombardment of Kids in the Dark, A Love Like War and Dancing With a Wolf (singer/guitarist Alex Gaskarth asks: “Who feels like dancing with a fuckin’ wolf tonight?” – a question not posed nearly often enough at gigs). They’re not just straightforward bangers that make the fans elbow each other: they show that All Time Low have muscle. From this point on, the tempo is relentlessly fast, and Gaskarth and lead guitarist Jack Barakat are a powerhouse front duo, taking turns to cakewalk down a runway into the audience, but always returning to roar each other on, like a cleaner-cut version of Aerosmith’s Toxic Twins.

All Time Low at the O2 Arena, London.
A meeting of minds … All Time Low at the O2 Arena, London. Photograph: Simone Joyner/Getty Images

At the midway point, Gaskarth straps on an acoustic guitar and makes a heartfelt speech about addiction. “There is a way through it,” he says resolutely, and the song that follows, Missing You, is as close to the bone as this show gets. There are clusters of kids here who are so young they’ve yet to get their first tattoos, and for them, this must be powerful stuff. Alas, at another stage of the show, they also witness the frontmen trading idiot-bantz about their favourite one-handed pastime and English girls’ bedroom skills, which is stupid on several levels. Having said that, several female fans are enchanted enough to throw their bras at the stage, so there’s clearly a meeting of minds.

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