Graeme Virtue 

Journey/Whitesnake – review

Journey's set has the feel of a triumphant Hollywood training montage, while Whitesnake's David Coverdale still looks determined to lick it in this vintage double-bill, writes Graeme Virtue
  
  

David Coverdale of Whitesnake
Determined to lick it … David Coverdale of Whitesnake. Photograph: Ross Gillmore Photograph: Ross Gillmore

As double-bills go, packaging together the celestial grooves of Journey and devil's-horn grind of Whitesnake makes a certain amount of sense. Both bands are of a similar vintage and, crucially, have had to figure out how to deliver signature hits in a way that doesn't hopelessly capsize a setlist.

After 35 years of rock graft, Whitesnake might not push the envelope, but David Coverdale still looks determined to lick it. A cask-matured rock god with decent patter, he hip-thrusts his mic stand to emphasise the throbbing riff of Give Me All Your Love, and remains strident enough to put over newer material such as the sprawling Forevermore.

After a strong start, the various extended guitar interludes and drum solos seem like diversions before the looming main event: Here I Go Again, which unites the audience in defiant air-punching. During their finale, Still of the Night, Coverdale's face is beamed on to footage of the moon, which seems a suitably galactic metaphor for their enduring self-belief.

Journey's habit of crashing songs together – all of them melodic, upbeat and featuring impressive close harmonies – can't help but give their set the feel of a triumphant Hollywood training montage. Arnel Pineda, the talented singer the band hired in 2007, is spry and focused, working on each sector of the stadium-size crowd with the energised pep of a Zumba instructor.

Pineda's appealing vigour seems to have revitalised Journey, although their secret weapon in performance is original bassist Ross Valory, fluid and unflappable, and possessed of a remarkable range of expressions of surprise. The songs roll by perhaps a little too smoothly, a frictionless voyage toward Don't Stop Believin', which they launch into with little fanfare, but climax with an impressive theatrical flourish. If their Glee-assisted smash has become a millstone after almost four years of cultural ubiquity – and more than 30 years after it was recorded – Journey heft it effortlessly.

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