Within The Hall of Aviva Studios Kelly Jones begins the first of this evenings two performances with a story of how his latest solo album, Inevitable Incredible, came to be. In the span of a few weeks, night after night after enjoying some before bed superhero-centric time with one of his kids, a newly acquired piano would beckon him. Inviting his fingers to it’s keys which would in turn summon songs from an ethereal world. “Sometimes you write songs, sometimes songs write you” he shares. The collection of songs we are presented with tonight are firmly of the latter.

Played in it’s entirety this evening the record was recorded in 6 days on the coast of Norway overlooking the North Sea. Jones admits once having collected these songs he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them, but he was sure he needed to do whatever it was quickly, whilst the sentiment and experience of the creative channelling he was experiencing was still present. That is the main message of this record and of this evening. Be present.

In order to share this feeling with his audience we are asked to seal our phones in bags for the duration, though very little sealing actually takes place as the large majority of the audience simply respect his wishes without the need for a physical barrier between them and their screentime. “When you roll over and pick up your phone in the morning it’ll all still fucking be there”.

It’s our first experience of a gig in at the Aviva Studios and despite boasting a 1,500+ seated capacity, when sat in the stalls it really does feel exceptionally small. Oblivious to the circle above and behind us where most of the crowd reside it’s easy to focus in and zone out any other distractions you might have going on.

For the first time in his career Kelly has written and is now performing primarily on piano which means spending most of the show facing away from the audience, a staging that adds to the personal and sometimes difficult emotional resonance the songs have with him. Even when he does take to the front of the stage to sit in a chair for Stereophonics track Boy on a Bike it’s like we’re watching him casually strumming away in his own company, daydreaming of a trumpet melody which we can just so happen to hear in all of our collective heads.

Joined as always by fellow Stereophonic Richard Jones, and similarly to when seeing him perform with Far From Saints, there is a labour of love feel to the project. As Kelly introduces each of the band members, most of which multi-task between multiple instruments and roadie roles he jokes it’s “cost effective….. In the sense that no-ones making any money”.

One of the great joys of seeing Kelly on a solo date is the freedom he has for storytelling. Something we get the sense he enjoys greatly. Each time we see them we get a new childhood anecdote from Kelly and Richard (this time about melting crayons on a school radiator) and priceless insights into his process. “I wrote this song in 2002 and I’m still figuring out what it means” he shares before tonight’s closer, Maybe Tomorrow which brings an audience member close to us to tears.

As he continues to experiment as an artist and songwriter the stripped back versions of Stereophonics songs we are treated to towards the end of the set suit their new found maturity. Make Friends With The Morning becomes slightly less euphoric and filled with more yearning and pleading. Maybe Tomorrow carries the wait and pain of someone who has been singing and hoping for it for two decades, loosing the optimism of youth it once had for us listening to it in our teens.

We hope Jones continues to embrace this extended moment as long as it may last and that he can enjoy pulling those in his presence into his present, lest we become Echowrecked.

Photo Gallery by Alex Cropper.