MADNESS // SQUEEZE // FD ARENA, LEEDS
Squeeze and Madness turn Leeds into a skanking, singalong spectacular
⭐⭐⭐⭐(4/5)
Madness @ FD Arena, Leeds. Photocredit John Hayhurst
Before Madness even set foot on stage, Squeeze had already set a formidable bar. Taking to the First Direct Arena with the ease of a band who know their catalogue is untouchable, they delivered a near-bulletproof greatest hits set that reminded the room just how deeply their songs are stitched into the British pop psyche.
Glenn Tilbrook’s voice remains remarkably supple, hitting high notes with an effortlessness that belies the decades, while Chris Difford played the understated foil — dry, observational and razor-sharp. Up The Junction, Cool For Cats and Pulling Mussels (From The Shell) landed with precision and warmth, each met by mass singalongs that felt more like affection than nostalgia.
The only real surprise was the absence of Labelled with Love and Hourglass, their omission from an otherwise comprehensive hits run prompting a few raised eyebrows among the faithful. Still, it was a minor quibble in a set that leaned confidently on quality rather than completeness, reaffirming Squeeze as craftsmen first and legacy act second.
Difford and Tilbrook also took a moment to look forward, flagging their upcoming album Trixies — a collection of songs written in the 1970s before Squeeze properly took shape. Far from a curio, the project hints at unfinished business rather than archival indulgence, and the announcement that Squeeze will return to the First Direct Arena next November was met with genuine excitement rather than polite applause.
When Madness finally arrived promptly at 9pm, they did so with typical lack of subtlety. One Step Beyond instantly turning Leeds into a mass of skanking limbs, as hits followed in joyous, breathless succession. Embarrassment, The Prince and My Girl gave collective memory of awkward school discos and parties — the crowd singing with such force it occasionally threatened to overpower the band.
Suggs, ever the master of the room, was in mischievous form. Mid-set, he couldn’t resist referencing Leeds United’s recent 3–1 victory over his beloved Chelsea. “You won’t be doing that again,” he grinned, drawing laughter and cheers in equal measure — the jibe landing with affectionate precision.
It was the closing stretch of the main set that really underlined Madness’ control of the room. House of Fun arrived to a wall of recognition, its absurdist narrative and stop-start dynamics turning the arena into something closer to organised chaos. The chorus was shouted rather than sung, the band grinning as Leeds did most of the work for them.
Baggy Trousers kept the momentum high, its clipped rhythm pushing the crowd into motion once again. What could easily have felt like routine instead came across as loose and alive, with the floor in constant movement and the song’s celebration of juvenile rebellion still sounding oddly defiant rather than nostalgic.
Our House, Its opening bars were met with a collective intake of breath, it’s a track so familiar it risks blending into the background, yet here it felt freshly charged by the sheer scale of participation.
The main set closed with It Must Be Love, Madness’ tender take on Labi Siffre’s original. The pace eased, arms rose, and the arena sang back the chorus with genuine warmth. It was an unshowy, heartfelt way to step off stage — not with bombast, but with genuine affection — setting up an encore that felt earned.
The encore veered gleefully into left-field territory. A ska-charged take on Wizzard’s I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday was a festive curveball, before Night Boat to Cairo unleashed the inevitable finale: a huge, winding conga that swallowed the arena whole. Strangers linked arms, grins stretched ear to ear, and for a few glorious minutes Leeds moved as one.
It was chaotic, ridiculous and deeply life-affirming — proof that when done right, British pop can still feel like the best kind of collective release.
Words and Photos - John Hayhurst
