Robbie Williams, known for his electrifying stadium shows, has embarked on a strikingly different tour – one that peels back the layers of performance to reveal a surprisingly vulnerable artist. The Long 90’s tour isn’t about spectacle; it’s about connection, and a willingness to share with an intimacy rarely seen from a global superstar.
Midway through the performance, Williams casually dropped a bombshell: “Congratulations to me for not being in the Epstein files.” A ripple of shock and then laughter spread through the crowd as he explained his absence was due to crippling agoraphia, a stark admission from a man once synonymous with a wild, public life. He revealed the 2000s brought not fame’s peak, but a profound battle with anxiety.
This wasn’t a carefully crafted confession; it was a spontaneous, almost offhand remark woven into the fabric of the show. He’d previously been housebound for years, a period of intense struggle that extended far beyond the publicly known timeframe. The moment, though emotionally charged, quickly dissolved into his signature self-deprecating humor, a reminder that even in darkness, his wit remains sharp.
The venue itself – Brixton’s O2 Academy, holding less than 5,000 people – amplified this newfound intimacy. Stripped of the elaborate sets and dazzling lights, Williams felt remarkably accessible, a “stadium artist” deliberately shrinking his world to connect with fans on a more personal level. It was impossible not to be drawn in by his honesty.
The setlist began with a bold move: “Angels,” a song so iconic it’s practically a national anthem. Instead of performing it himself, Williams stepped back, allowing the audience to take the lead. The resulting, word-perfect rendition was a powerful testament to the song’s enduring legacy, with Williams joining in only for the final verse.
Hearing “Angels” so early felt almost surreal, like uncorking champagne at dawn. It was exhilarating, yet raised the question of how the night could possibly sustain that level of energy. Surprisingly, it did, shifting the focus to the newer material and allowing the audience to relax into the album without anticipating the inevitable climax.
A particularly poignant moment arrived with “Killing Me,” a song imbued with new meaning after Williams shared a story about his daughter, Teddy, and her experience with exclusion. He acknowledged his own past feelings of being cut off by friends, revealing the deeply personal inspiration behind the lyrics: “But words cut deep when you’re defenceless/ And they’re killing me, but killing me slowly.”
An unexpected change to the setlist – swapping the order of songs – proved inspired. “Let Me Entertain You” followed “Angels,” injecting a surge of energy that carried the audience through the next few tracks. This highlighted a challenge inherent in performing an entire album: the lack of opportunity to mask weaker material.
Despite this, even the lesser-known tracks from his older album, *Life Thru A Lens*, held up remarkably well, with the crowd enthusiastically participating in even the spoken-word segments. The newer album, *Britpop*, however, lacked the benefit of decades to solidify its place in fans’ hearts.
The two albums, while distinct, shared a cohesive guitar sound, creating a sonic bridge across Williams’s extensive career. He hinted at more music to come, promising to continue exploring new creative avenues. The energy shifted again with the opening of the second set, “Rocket,” immediately getting the crowd back on their feet.
Tracks like “Spies” and “Bite Your Tongue” were instantly catchy, hinting at future radio staples. The Gary Barlow co-written “Morrissey” was a particular highlight, demonstrating a collaborative spirit and a willingness to experiment. However, the newer material didn’t quite possess the same enduring power as the classics.
Williams even playfully acknowledged this, removing one track from the setlist – a silent admission that not every song on *Britpop* is a resounding success. While *Life Thru A Lens* held its own, the back-to-back performance exposed a slight imbalance, with the latter halves of both albums feeling less dynamic than their beginnings.
The show concluded with “Selfish Disco,” a choice that felt somewhat underwhelming. A reprise of “Angels” or a more impactful closer would have been a fitting end. Yet, despite this minor misstep, Williams’s magnetic personality shone through. He understands that his career is built on charm and connection.
This tour isn’t about replicating the grandeur of his stadium shows; it’s about offering a glimpse behind the curtain, revealing the vulnerable, self-aware human being beneath the persona. It’s a show for the dedicated fans, a chance to experience Robbie Williams in his most authentic form. And for those fans, it’s an experience well worth having.
