Live Review: Steve Vai

Hordes of guitar nerds have left their pointy shred guitars on their beds tonight to pay homage to their lord and master, the inimitable Steve Vai, who plays a marathon three-hour set with no breaks or support act tonight. As the lights dim and the crowd whoops with anticipation, smoke starts to creep onto the stage. Guitar pick-scrapes and a couple of voice-emulating licks escape the speakers and the crowd cheers even before Vai emerges with band, creating a wall of sound that peaks with caterwauling string bends. The drums and bass then unite to get things moving with Racing The World.

Sporting a cheeky Akubra hat and crazy pants, Vai is in his showboating element as he writhes about the stage, wringing notes out of his customised Ibanez as only he can. Drummer Jeremy Colson and back-up guitarist Dave Weiner have been touring with Vai for years now, with new additions Philip Bynoe on bass and diminutive Michael Arrom on keys completing a line-up that demands virtuosity of the highest degree. Vai presents as the alpha peacock of his motley group, with the jarring aesthetic differences of the others overshadowed by their sheer musical ability. Tender Surrender makes an early showing, before the band exits the stage, allowing Weiner a moment to showcase his acoustic guitar prowess. Seizing the opportunity for a costume change and now sporting some tight black meggings with decorative straps, Vai introduces Weeping China Doll. A minor sound hitch has Vai laughing before the song recommences, a seven-string guitar now his weapon of choice. Answers affords Bynoe the chance to play some music that is as funky as he looks, his dreadlocked form bounding about the stage. Segueing straight into another track lifted from the same album, The Animal highlights Weiner's skills as an axeman.

Probably the emotional highpoint of the evening, Whispering A Prayer is both moving and inspiring in its execution, the simple guitar line forcing Vai to take his foot off the accelerator (momentarily) to allow the track (and audience) to breathe. A feedback solo has him wandering the stage in search of sweet spots before ending the song with his teeth yanking on a string. Vai gently mocks the crowd for sounding “ridiculous” during a call-and-response section. Arrom then shyly takes the spotlight, his fleet fingers tickling the ivories with a nod to Flight Of The Bumblebee, before his mouthed “thank you” and raised hand signals the end of this humble, yet assured, performance.

Cue the second costume change of the night as Vai returns (this time a symphony of crushed velvet) jazzing things up with some scatting so you know he means with his mouth what he says with his fingers. It's now Colson's time to shine and he materialises with a mobile drum set featuring a motorised, talking skull. After some cringe-worthy yet light-hearted banter between the skull and Vai, Colson momentarily lets loose on the mini-kit with a flurry of South American-inspired beats, before returning to the main kit for a killer punk-rock blast.

Costume change number three reveals Vai as flashing, lit-up robot, red laser beams shooting from his fingers through the dark, smoke-riddled theatre. He announces that there's “only two songs left”, before joking that “each one goes for two hours!” Two crowd members are welcomed to the stage at this point to help the band craft a song on the fly and then Vai breaks into fan favourite, For The Love Of God, which raises the roof. Vai's fingers are reduced to a flesh-blur and he ends the night with a heartfelt thanks to the audience and a group bow. Steve Vai and his band leave the now-standing, ever-loving crowd sonically spent, having pumped out more notes in one night than most bands will in a year.