Chickenfoot, O2 Academy Brixton - review - Music - Arts

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There was no descending miniature Stonehenge during their 90-minute set, although there were plenty of moments when one wondered whether this might be a spoof: the fact that three out of four of the members were wearing shades, despite it being pitch black; that their recent second album is called III; that the songs are called things like Bitten By The Wolf.

Not that the overwhelmingly male crowd seemed to mind, nodding approvingly at Satriani's solos and raising the "rock" hand signal between songs.

Chickenfoot's problem, as with many a supergroup before them, is one of too many people vying for centre stage: Sammy Hagar wanted to channel his inner Robert Plant; Satriani to show what a technically accomplished player he is; Michael Anthony to set a new world record for notes played on a bass guitar during one performance.

Too often, as on Down The Drain, the total wasn't just less than the sum of its parts: it was a mess.

Tellingly, the biggest cheer of last night came for a cover version - an incendiary take on Jimi Hendrix's Foxy Lady. Chickenfoot's own material, by contrast, is laughably naff. The only problem is: they don't seem to see the funny side.

Chickenfoot