The last time I saw Kula Shaker was V97. Or at least, according to a Network SouthEast poster it was. I don’t actually remember them being on the bill, which feels on brand for the late 90s. Memory is elastic. Posters are not.
Back then, the crowd aesthetic leaned heavily towards skinheads in green fleecos. That look has haunted a few decades now, so it was oddly comforting to clock its spiritual descendants still knocking about. Different haircut, same energy.
This set didn’t creep in quietly. Lucky Number kicked the door straight off its hinges, followed by Good Money, which flirted cheekily with a snippet of Fool’s Gold. A knowing nod, a grin across the room. By Charge of the Light Brigade and Broke as Folk, the band felt properly locked in, tight but loose enough to let things breathe.
There’s something reassuring about how confidently Kula Shaker inhabit their own universe. Chura Liya (You Stole My Heart) and Natural Magick leaned fully into the mysticism, while Infinite Sun shimmered rather than blasted. The light show deserves its own mention. At points it looked like a cross between a psychometric test and a fertility stick. Flashing symbols, pulsing colour, the vague sense that you might be about to receive some life changing news you didn’t ask for.
Shower Your Love was a proper standout. One of those moments where the room collectively exhales and realises this song has aged better than most of us. Then Sound of Drums hit and, honestly, kicked. Rhythm forward, hips engaged, any lingering nostalgia evaporated in favour of the here and now.
There was a brief but genuine moment of gratitude from the band, thanking the crew for keeping the whole thing moving. Not throwaway thanks, but the kind that suggests they know exactly how much graft goes on behind the curtain.
The run through Be Merciful, Shaunie, Day For Night and Wormslayer kept the momentum rolling, before an encore that felt generous rather than obligatory. 303 buzzed, Tattva reminded everyone why this band once felt so singular, and Hush landed as a surprisingly natural fit rather than a novelty cover. Govinda closed things out in full transcendental mode, the crowd somewhere between gig and gathering.
I might not remember them being on that V97 bill, but I’ll remember this. Not because it rewrote history, but because it made peace with it. Still colourful. Still strange. Still doing their thing, and doing it well.
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