
words: Paulo Carmona (freely translated by Raquel Pinheiro)
photos: Telma Mota
I could have begun this article with any of the following titles: The Art of Knowing How to Be on Stage; The Magic of Rock’n’Roll; A British Rocker à la Carte; or The Fever of a Friday the 13th at the End of a Storm. Any one of them would have suited Miles Kane’s concert at the Hard Club in Porto.
But I’ll start by saying that I witnessed one of the finest performances I have had the pleasure to see in recent times, because Miles Kane is utterly captivating on stage. All that mojo spills from every pore of his skin. He wants to be loved and idolised by the audience — and he achieves it with a chameleon-like passport in shades of fine French champagne.
He offers the back of his neck to the crowd at the front, to be stroked like a pampered cat, but always in moderation. Then he erupts with every song, exuding the attitude of a wild, untamed Baudelaire. He smiles, sending sensual sparks with every movement, and his guitar is a lunatic that seems intent on reaching multiple climaxes, so excited is it.
It all began the very moment he set foot on stage, launching into Electric Flower, Rearrange, Trouble Son and Cry on My Guitar, and continued seamlessly, supported by his backing band, who give him the space to shine, until he closed with Come Closer. Naturally.
He thanked the crowd, thanked them again, distributed greetings, autographs, and love to his fans, and withdrew with poise, swagger, and the style of a true artist. And he truly is one.




