Duran Duran NEC, Birmingham

 They have been counted out more times than a pile of loose change. But Duran Duran have kept plugging away long after
 the only sensible course of action would have been to quit while they were still on their feet. Persistence has paid off,
 and with a singles compilation, Greatest, comfortably lodged in the Top 30, the group from Birmingham have claimed a
 front seat aboard the 1980s revival bandwagon currently being steered by their reconvened contemporaries, Culture Club.

 Thus, although it was not sold out, the opening night of Duran Duran's tour at the 12,500-capacity NEC on Monday
 was a far more noteworthy event than would have been the case a year ago when, with consummate bad timing, bassist
 John Taylor finally left the group. Indeed, at that point Duran Duran's commercial status was so diminished that their last
 album, Medazzaland, was not even released in this country.

 Such reduced circumstances seemed a distant memory as the band romped on stage to receive a rapturous local heroes' welcome. Dazzling white lights flashed and the cavernous hall echoed to the sound of a spaceship lifting off, as they began with Planet Earth, the hit which launched their career almost 18 years ago. "Is there anybody out there trying to get through?" sang the soberly dressed Simon Le Bon, 40, in a voice that initially sounded about as clear as a station Tannoy announcement, while a similarly besuited Nick Rhodes, 36, gazed down at his keyboards and the militantly bald Warren Cuccurullo, 41, dished out a round of meaty guitar chops. It was not a very good start and Le Bon's voice sounded horribly stretched on the ensuing versions of Is There Something I Should Know and A View to a Kill.

 But gradually both sound and band settled down, and the sheer weight of hits began to have a telling effect. For while
 Duran Duran in their day designed and defined a peculiarly vacuous phase in pop's development, their emphasis on
 conventional tunes and instantly recognisable choruses has left them with a surprisingly resilient legacy to plunder as a
 nostalgia act.

 An instant frisson of approval greeted the opening chords of Don't Say a Prayer, and with Le Bon's voice now shored
 up by the reassuring harmony vocals of replacement bass player Wes Wehmiller, the performance began to gel at last.

 It ended with an impressive run of hits including Hungry Like the Wolf, Girls on Film, The Reflex and, after a botched
 retreat from the stage, a final encore of Rio, featuring a spectacularly naff harmonica solo from Le Bon, who would
 have a hard time if he were ever to try his hand at busking.

 Earlier, Le Bon had joked about having to sing Wild Boys, a lyric patently at odds with the band's increasingly staid
 demeanour. But one sensed a truth behind the jest. For like so many acts now on the comeback circuit, Duran Duran's
 problem is not the repertoire they have at their disposal, or their ability to tempt the crowds out for old times' sake. It is
 in avoiding the perils of self-parody.

DAVID SINCLAIR

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