The Proclaimers – The Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool – 18th October 2026

Still making a noise

There are plenty of bands who, after four decades in the business, might be forgiven for taking their collective feet off the gas, rolling out the hits and giving the audience precisely what they came for. The Proclaimers, however, have never been particularly interested in doing things the easy way. With their thirteenth studio album, You May Offend, released in September, Craig and Charlie Reid are still finding plenty to get off their chests – and, as their return to Liverpool’s Royal Philharmonic Hall demonstrates, they have no intention of going quietly.

The refined setting of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Hall might be a world away from the sweaty clubs and festival fields where their songs have been shouted back at them over the years, but The Proclaimers are perfectly at home on a stage. Their unmistakable voices, strong accents and refusal to be pigeonholed remain as distinctive as ever. With a full band behind them, they deliver their instantly recognisable sound that draws equally from folk, pop, punk and good old-fashioned rock’n’roll.

YOU MAY OFFEND

Opening with Knock It Down, the first track on the new album, the brothers make their intentions clear from the outset. This isn’t a tour built around a nostalgia trip, with a handful of unfamiliar songs politely tucked between the crowd-pleasers. The new material has something to say, and it gets its share of the spotlight.

As explored in the recent ATB review, You May Offend finds The Proclaimers in pointed, politically observant form. Hypocrisy, injustice, free speech and the behaviour of those in positions of influence all come under scrutiny. Musically, the record is far from sedate, with punchy arrangements and a harder-edged rock sound that reinforces the directness of Craig’s lyrics.

Songs from the album sit comfortably alongside the established favourites. The timeless, waltzy When You Get There possesses an instantly recognisable Proclaimers tune, whilst simultaneously bludgeoning you over the head with poignant and challenging lyrics. The title track, in turn, brings its own thought-provoking perspective to a world in which saying what you think can be an increasingly complicated business.

There is no sense of a band trying to recreate their past glories. Instead, the new songs underline what has always made The Proclaimers interesting: the combination of memorable melodies, sharp observations and an unapologetically individual point of view. They may be best known to some for songs about walking extraordinary distances for love, but there has always been considerably more to them than that.

NO SHORTAGE OF BANGERS

Of course, a Proclaimers gig would hardly be complete without a generous helping of the songs that have accompanied the band through nearly 40 years of recording and touring. The extensive back catalogue provides plenty of opportunities for the audience to demonstrate just how deeply this music has embedded itself in the collective consciousness.

Over And Done With, Let’s Get Married and I’m On My Way are reminders of the band’s remarkable knack for writing songs that sound instantly familiar without ever feeling disposable. Their melodies are direct, their rhythms irresistible and their lyrics full of the everyday detail that makes them relatable.

A DISTINCTIVE MUSICAL IDENTITY

Yet familiarity should never be confused with simplicity. Beneath those seemingly straightforward tunes lies a distinctive musical identity, built around the brothers’ tightly interwoven vocals and an ability to shift effortlessly between tenderness, humour and defiance.

The live band deserves its share of the credit. Ever-smiley Steven Christie on keyboards, Garry John Kane on bass, Zac Ware on guitars/pedal steel and Clive Jenner on drums provide an accomplished backing that gives the songs plenty of room to breathe. The result is a sound that can move from melodic warmth to full-blooded rock without losing the qualities that make The Proclaimers instantly recognisable.

A LETTER FROM SCOTLAND

Few songs in the band’s catalogue demonstrate their ability to marry an irresistible tune with a much deeper story quite as effectively as Letter From America. Its reflections on the Highland Clearances and the communities dispersed by economic hardship carry a weight that remains undiminished, and in the finest of folk traditions the devastating lyrics are accompanied by a toe-tappingly joyous tune, and a chorus that a crowd can really belt out at full volume.

That contrast is central to the band’s appeal. Their songs can be uplifting without being glib, political without becoming ponderous, and funny without losing their humanity. They have always understood that a catchy chorus can carry a serious message further than a lecture ever could.

The same emotional directness runs through Sunshine On Leith, a song that has long since escaped the confines of the album on which it first appeared. Whether heard as a personal declaration of love, a song of homecoming or a communal football anthem, it possesses an extraordinary capacity to bring people together. Experiencing Sunshine On Leith live is one of those life-affirming, defiant moments that leave the audience awed and emotional in equal measure.

FIVE HUNDRED MILES, AND COUNTING

As the evening moves towards its conclusion, the atmosphere inevitably shifts up another gear. I’m On My Way and I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) provide the kind of rousing finale that few bands could replicate, their familiar refrains inviting the audience to become part of the performance rather than simply spectators.

The entire audience finally took to their feet with no small encouragement from Zac Ware – a determined section of the stalls had danced through most of the evening, despite the Philharmonic stewards’ best attempts to keep them seated, but by this point in proceedings the stewards were resigned to failure and joined the party.

ENDURING APPEAL

There is a danger in taking these songs for granted. Their ubiquity can obscure just how unusual they are: songs with such a distinctive identity that a few notes are enough to prompt instant recognition, and choruses that seem to belong as much to the audience as to the people who wrote them.

But the enduring appeal of The Proclaimers isn’t simply that they can still fill a room with familiar melodies. It is that those melodies sit alongside a body of work that continues to develop, question and challenge. You May Offend is evidence of a band with more to contribute, not merely a legacy to preserve.

The inevitable encore of Make My Heart Fly and Joyful Kilmarnock Blues concluded the festivities, and the crowd left the beautiful art deco hall with smiles and tears plastered across their faces.

Forty years on, Craig and Charlie Reid remain their own people, making the music they want to make and saying what they want to say. Liverpool got the hits, the harmonies and the big choruses, but also a reminder that The Proclaimers have never been content to stand still.

And long may they keep walking.

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