Gig review: The 1975 at AO Arena, Manchester

“I’m a nepo baby, you know,” Matty Healy quips midway through The 1975’s performance at Manchester’s AO Arena. “My mum was on Coronation Street, so we had a number-one album in America.” He scratches his head quizzically. “That’s the way it works, right?”

For all of the singer’s meta-provocation and showbiz notoriety, the subject of Healy’s parentage barely registers as a footnote these days. Fame as frontman of the Wilmslow art-rock favourites has far eclipsed that of his status as the son of actors Tim Healy and Denise Welch; the band’s skyrocketing commercial acclaim over the past 18 months, from back-to-back arena tours in North America to rescue package performances at Reading and Leeds, is a testament to their undeniable power as a thrilling live draw more than their heritage.

For all the vociferous fandom speculation over how much Healy’s public persona blurs the lines between fact and fiction – from raw-meat munchies to an apparent spring fling with Taylor Swift – he is only part of their success.

The 1975’s ability to toggle from widescreen lovelornness to fist-pumping power-pop on a dime is a group dynamic honed over two decades; drummer George Daniel, bassist Ross MacDonald and guitarist Adam Hann are as adept at rendering record textures live with stadium-sized aplomb as anyone else in the business.

This mini-residency arrives as an extension of last year’s jaunt; one of two near-hometown gigs bookended by a run at London’s The O2. But there are fine-tuned changes to the theatrical spectacle; more than a jaded rockstar satire, this tour plays like a reflectively controversy-free catharsis.

Changes to the running order suggest as much; Looking for Somebody (To Love) and Oh Caroline are still standouts, but slow-burn synthpop gem A Change of Heart and lighters-out ballad Robbers bring old-school giddiness with soaring results.

A revamped transition to the second act, where Healy cradles a foetal-like naked waxwork of himself atop a mound of fake turf before vocalist Polly Money leads off lo-fi country cut Jesus Christ 2005 God Bless America, drops the curtain for a great home straight; a copper-bottomed romp spanning TOOTIMETOOTIMETOOTIME’s heady tropical house to Love It If We Made It’s strident political sophisti-pop.

“This is The 1975, still at their very best!” Healy cries before the one-two punch of Sex and People wraps it all up, bubblegum urgency transmuted into sheer screamo-punk thrash. Twenty years in, it’s close enough.