Live at The Powerstation
24 October 2026
Live Review by Music Journalist: Paul Marshall
Midge Ure at the Powerstation: Eighties Gold, Rock ’n’ Roll Swagger and a Catalogue Worth Celebrating.
Arriving at the Powerstation tonight, I’m greeted by one of the longest queues of concertgoers I’ve seen in quite some time. There’s clearly something special in the air, and as I make my way inside, the evidence is everywhere. T-shirts bearing the names of OMD, James, Thin Lizzy and The Stranglers are scattered throughout the crowd, alongside what looks suspiciously like an original Live Aid shirt. Judging by its weathered appearance, that one has probably seen a few things.
This is a seasoned bunch of music lovers, a generation of concertgoers who have lived through the changing fashions of popular music and are here to reconnect with a soundtrack that helped define their lives. There’s an unmistakable sense of anticipation. Tonight is about nostalgia, certainly, but it’s also about seeing whether the music and the man who helped create it can still deliver in the flesh.
Before Midge Ure takes the stage, however, we have an unexpected discovery.
Cole Stacey: A masterclass in opening a show
First up is Cole Stacey, a solo singer-songwriter armed with a mandolin, a commanding voice and enough natural stage presence to make you wonder why you haven’t heard of him before.
Initially, I assume he’s a local support act, but it turns out he’s from much closer to home than I expected, at least, my old home. Stacey hails from Tavistock, Devon, England, not far from my own old stomping ground. Funny how the world has a way of joining the dots when you least expect it.
Stacey immediately commands the room. There’s confidence and swagger in his delivery, but none of the forced theatrics that can sometimes accompany a solo performer trying to win over an unfamiliar audience. His voice is beautifully warmed up from the opening number, and his songwriting benefits from a genuine understanding of dynamics. The first song breathes, allowing space between the phrases and moving effortlessly between light and shade. Creating that sort of musical architecture on your own is no easy feat, yet Stacey makes it look entirely natural.
He’s equally comfortable working the audience, inviting everyone to clap along to the second number with a slightly syncopated rhythm. The crowd responds, and suddenly this isn’t simply a support act filling the time before the main attraction. We’re engaged.
There’s a lovely moment of professionalism when Stacey tunes his instrument while continuing to chat with the audience. It’s a small thing, perhaps, but these are the details that separate an accomplished performer from someone who’s merely standing onstage playing songs.
Then comes a surprise: a rendition of Those Were the Days, the song made internationally famous by Mary Hopkin in 1968. I haven’t heard it in years, and judging by the reaction around me, neither have many others. Except, of course, they all seem to know every word. The audience begins singing along in considerable numbers, much to Stacey’s apparent surprise.
Stacey continues to demonstrate his versatility, adding a kick-drum pulse to some numbers before stripping things back even further for an a cappella performance. No instruments, no safety net, just a voice and the confidence to let it carry the room.
For his finale, he delivers a terrific song adapted from a eighteenth-century sea shanty, drawing attention to its historical roots in this part of the world. It’s a fitting conclusion to a set that has moved between contemporary songwriting, traditional folk influences and a much-loved pop standard without ever feeling disjointed.
Stacey has done everything a support artist should do: captured the audience’s attention, entertained them and left them wanting more. I’d happily see him headline his own show.
Midge Ure: The catalogue speaks for itself
After a short break, it’s time for the main event.
Midge Ure opens with Dear God, his 1988 solo single, and immediately establishes that this is going to be a night built around the songs rather than elaborate production or unnecessary theatrics. His voice remains strong, his delivery assured, and there’s an ease about him that suggests a man entirely comfortable with the musical legacy he’s carrying.
And what a legacy it is.
Ure’s career has taken in an extraordinary range of musical worlds. From his early days with Slik and The Rich Kids, through Thin Lizzy and Visage, to fronting the classic incarnation of Ultravox, he has repeatedly found himself at the centre of significant moments in British music. Beyond his own recordings, his work with Bob Geldof on Band Aid and the organisation of Live Aid secured his place in a much wider cultural history.
But tonight isn’t a history lecture. It’s a live show, and Ure is here to remind us that these songs still have a pulse.
One of the evening’s first surprises is the appearance of Cole Stacey, who returns to the stage as bassist before switching to keyboards. It’s a considerable step up from opening the show solo with a mandolin, and Stacey handles the transition with the assurance of someone who knows precisely what he’s doing. His versatility is impressive, and his presence adds another layer to an already accomplished band.
Ure, meanwhile, proves to be an entertaining raconteur between songs. There’s a dry, humour to his stage banter, and the audience is more than willing to play along.
At one point, he jokes about the way Ultravox were labelled a synthesiser band, as though that description somehow tells the whole story. The crowd laughs, and rightly so. While synthesizers were central to the band’s sound, there was always more going on beneath the electronic surface: musicianship, arrangement, dynamics and a rock sensibility that could get lost in the fashionable shorthand of the era.
He then turns his attention to the modern phenomenon of the online critic.
“Isn’t it amazing that everyone is a kind of keyboard warrior these days?” he asks, observing how readily people say things on social media that they would never dream of saying to someone’s face.
It’s a familiar complaint, but Ure delivers it with enough timing to make it entertaining rather than preachy.
Then comes the story behind the tour’s name.
“I tried desperately not to call it the hits tour, because they are not all hits, so I called it the catalogue tour,” he explains. Somehow, that eventually morphed into Catalogue: The Hits Tour.
Naturally, the internet had something to say about it, with one online wag asking, “Is he gonna play his whole hit?”
Ure says he put the critic in his place, explaining that he thought long and hard before coming up with what he describes as an eloquent response: “Wanker.”
The Powerstation erupts in laughter and applause, and just when the crowd thinks the moment has passed, Ure adds, “I hope he’s not here,” sending the audience into another fit of laughter.
Then, with impeccable comic timing, he turns the joke into a musical introduction: “I expect this is the hit he was talking about.”
The band launches into If I Was, Ure’s UK number-one single from 1985, and suddenly we’re transported straight back to the decade that made him a household name.
Beyond the synthesisers
The set draws from Ure’s solo career, Visage and Ultravox, moving between well-known favourites and deeper cuts that will delight those who have followed his work beyond the obvious singles.
Visage gets a deserved outing with Again We Love and the unmistakable Fade to Grey. The latter remains one of the defining recordings of the New Romantic era, its cool electronic textures and distinctive atmosphere instantly recognisable decades after its release.
Yet the real pleasure of the evening lies in the less obvious selections.
Yellow Pearl, co-written by Ure and Phil Lynott, brings another fascinating strand of musical history into the set. Originally associated with Lynott’s solo career, the song also became familiar to UK television audiences through its use as the theme music for Top of the Pops. It’s a reminder that Ure’s influence extends well beyond the songs he performed himself.
Then there’s I Remember (Death in the Afternoon), a track that Ure admits he had fallen out of love with for a time. He doesn’t entirely know why, he says, but it’s back in the set.
Thankfully.
The performance has a welcome bite, and the band gives it the sort of muscular treatment that reinforces a point worth making: Ultravox were never simply a synthesiser band. Beneath the electronic arrangements was a rock band capable of real power, with guitars, drums and bass doing considerably more than merely supporting the keyboards.
Dressed head to toe in black, Ure looks every inch the seasoned rock performer. His guitar playing is another pleasant surprise. He’s no fretboard show-off, nor does he need to be. He’s a riff man, a player who understands that the right part in the right place can do more for a song than a thousand unnecessary notes.
His playing is purposeful, occasionally gritty and always in service of the music. It’s a reminder that Ure’s musical identity was forged long before synthesisers became shorthand for the sound of the eighties.
The band behind him is equally impressive. The arrangements retain the atmosphere of the original recordings without becoming slavish reproductions, and there’s enough room for the musicians to inject their own personalities into the material.
No Regrets, new Europeans and a band firing on all cylinders
One of the evening’s more intimate moments comes with No Regrets, Ure’s interpretation of the Tom Rush song later popularised by The Walker Brothers.
It’s a brave choice in a set full of songs associated with some of the most distinctive sounds of the eighties. Yet it works beautifully. Ure makes the song his own while retaining a sense of the original, delivering a performance that feels reflective rather than sentimental.
It also demonstrates the breadth of his musical taste. For all the electronic sophistication of Visage and Ultravox, Ure has always had a strong connection to traditional songwriting and the emotional directness of a well-crafted song.
New Europeans is another highlight, with the keyboard players working hard to recreate the intricate textures that made Ultravox such an influential act.
Joseph O’Keefe, in particular, is a pleasure to watch. While playing the keyboards with one hand, he uses the other to control an additional pitch-bending device, adding subtle movement and character to the sound. It’s a technically demanding bit of multitasking, and he makes it look remarkably effortless.
Drummer Russell Field also deserves recognition. During All Stood Still, he plays while extending his other arm, drumstick firmly in hand, towards O’Keefe. It’s a wonderfully theatrical cue, and O’Keefe responds with an excellent keyboard solo.
The moment captures the spirit of the evening: accomplished musicians having fun, listening to each other and giving familiar material enough room to breathe.
Vienna: A classic finds another dimension
Of course, there are songs that carry an almost impossible weight of expectation, and Vienna is undoubtedly one of them.
Released by Ultravox in 1980, it became the band's signature song and one of the defining records of the era. Its dramatic arrangement, brooding atmosphere and slow-building intensity have ensured its longevity, while its refusal to conform to the usual conventions of a pop single remains part of its appeal.
Live, it’s a song that demands a careful balance between restraint and grandeur.
Ure delivers the vocal with a slightly off-axis position at the microphone, which seems to soften its impact at times. Given the strength of his voice elsewhere in the set, I found myself wondering whether a more direct position might have allowed the vocal to cut through more clearly.
That said, the performance gathers momentum, and the arrangement ultimately delivers.
O’Keefe switches from keyboards to violin, adding a beautiful accompaniment that gives the song a different emotional colour. Rather than merely reproducing the familiar recording, the violin lifts the arrangement into something more expansive, lending the performance a richness that works exceptionally well in the live setting.
It’s one of the evening’s standout moments, demonstrating that even a song as familiar as Vienna can reveal new dimensions when the musicians approach it with imagination and confidence.
More than a trip down memory lane
There’s a temptation to dismiss concerts like this as exercises in nostalgia, particularly when the audience is populated by people who remember the original releases first time around.
But that would be to misunderstand what’s happening here.
These songs have endured because they were built to last. They combine strong songwriting with distinctive arrangements and performances that have remained compelling long after the fashions surrounding them have changed. Ure’s career has crossed musical boundaries, and tonight’s set makes that breadth clear.
The electronic sophistication of Visage, the dramatic sweep of Ultravox, the directness of his solo work and the occasional detour into someone else’s song all sit comfortably alongside one another.
There’s also something satisfying about seeing an artist embrace the humour and contradictions of his own history. Ure knows the power of these songs, but he doesn’t appear trapped by them. He can laugh about the labels attached to his career, poke fun at online critics and acknowledge that not every song in the set was a hit.
That self-awareness makes the evening all the more enjoyable.
The Catalogue: The Hits Tour title might be a slightly awkward compromise, but the show itself is anything but. It’s a celebration of a substantial body of work, delivered by a frontman who remains engaging, a band that knows its craft and an audience that clearly appreciates the opportunity to hear these songs performed live.
Verdict: A thoroughly rewarding night of eighties classics, deeper cuts, sharp humour and first-rate musicianship. Midge Ure proves that his musical legacy is considerably broader than a handful of hit singles, while Cole Stacey provides a memorable opening set that leaves me keen to see him again.
Sometimes the past really is worth revisiting, especially when it still sounds this good.
Midge Ure Set List:
- Dear God
- Again We Love
- Call Of The Wild
- Passing Strangers
- If I Was
- I Remember (Death in the Afternoon)
- Your Name (Has Slipped My Mind Again)
- Astradyne
- No Regrets (Tom Rush) Cover
- New Europeans
- All Stood Still
- Monster
- Vienna
- Reap the Wild Wind
- The Voice
- Fade To Grey
- Dancing With Tears In My Eyes
- Yellow Pearl
- Hymn
Reviewer: Paul Marshall