"It's like the gift that keeps on giving," says John Oates, almost sheepishly. He's talking about She's Gone, the song he and Daryl Hall wrote in 1973, and perhaps the most enduring example of their remarkable ability to fold rock, pop and classic doo-wop into something both seductive and heartsick. She's Gone is clearly intended as a midway point for this sold-out gig, which is one of a handful of dates before the Starsky & Hutch of blue-eyed soul play Latitude festival. Instead, it brings the show to an unscheduled halt when the audience response is an extended standing ovation. Hall, who in his mid-60s can still negotiate the demanding vocal swoops and switchbacks of the duo's sleek back catalogue, grins with the wolfish confidence of a man who knows he has at least another five killers in his pocket.
Presumably, Hall and Oates experienced similar levels of love and appreciation when they were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year. If it was suspiciously belated recognition for the most successful musical double act of all time, they don't appear to have any axes to grind with cultural gatekeepers who turn up their nose at yacht rock. While both name-drop their current musical projects, the setlist never strays far from full-fat cream skimmed from their playboy heyday. Their six-piece backing band – including long-time collaborator Charles DeChant, an emphatic sax wizard who resembles a sexier Dumbledore – are slick, even if they can't fully replicate the frictionless studio sheen of Maneater or Sara Smile. They do find some rockier seams to mine, turning the fleet You Make My Dreams into a roadhouse boogie and foregrounding the Radio Ga Ga-esque double handclaps of Private Eyes. Hall soars throughout and, while Oates is less flashy, together they make a persuasive, evergreen package.
• At Apollo, Manchester on 10 July. Box office: 08444 777 677. Tour: Hall and Oates.
