Some bands seem permanently tied to a particular era, forever carrying with them the scent of mid-2000s indie discos, sticky floors, and the sound of cheap lager bottles clinking together in the half-darkness of a student bar. Yet very few of those bands can still fill an arena nearly twenty years later, still holding the affection of an audience that has grown up, moved on, but evidently never stopped caring. The Kooks’ appearance at Manchester’s Co-op Live on October 3rd was proof that, for many, those songs still mean something. In fact, judging by the sheer wall of noise that greeted their entrance, they mean a lot.
Even before Luke Pritchard and company took to the stage, it was obvious this was going to be special. The arena was completely packed from front barrier to nosebleeds, bodies pressed tight, the kind of electric chatter you only get when everyone in a room already knows the words to half the setlist by heart. It was a proper sell-out, a gleaming reminder that The Kooks are still highly beloved even if radio playlists and streaming charts often make it easy to forget that. And when the house lights dipped and the opening chords of “Sofa Song” hit, the response was deafening. The roar that spread across Co-op Live could have rattled the roof loose.
That opener proved why they’ve endured. In less than three minutes, it condenses everything people fell for in the first place: the playful bounce, jagged guitars, cheeky charm, and Pritchard’s instantly recognisable delivery. The band looked genuinely taken aback by the intensity of the reaction, the frontman stepping back with a boyish grin as the crowd practically screamed every lyric back to him. There was real warmth in that moment — not performative gratitude, but the look of an artist realising his songs have become part of people’s lives.
The Kooks – Raphael Buisson Enlas
From there, they wasted no time diving into one of their biggest hits, “Always Where I Need to Be”, which felt like collective euphoria manifest. The Co-op Live’s sound mix deserves a mention as well, because it was crystal clear. Everything that came through felt album-sharp yet alive — guitars crunchy but clean, Pritchard’s voice cutting perfectly above it all. Sometimes arena shows can swallow indie bands whole, but here it felt intimate despite the size.
The early portion of the set was a masterclass in balancing nostalgia and energy. Tracks like “Eddie’s Gun” and “Stormy Weather” came thick and fast, each one met with ecstatic jumping from the standing floor. By the time they reached “She Moves in Her Own Way”, you could feel a true alignment between band and crowd, everyone singing as if rehearsed for weeks. There was a sea of smiles, strangers joining arms, couples shouting lyrics into each other’s faces, all of it soundtracked by that effortlessly sunny guitar line that still sounds as fresh as it did when it first broke through seventeen years ago.
Then came “Bad Habit”, one of the louder moments of the night. The bass pulsed through the arena as strobes kicked in, and for a brief stretch, The Kooks transformed from jangly singalong act into a proper rock unit. Pritchard strutted confidently across the stage, one of the few moments of the evening where the band really leaned into performance spectacle, before quickly switching back to pure enthusiasm during Westside and Sweet Emotion.
The middle section of the set focused a little more on newer material, and while it inevitably lowered the decibel level of crowd sing-alongs, the songs themselves came alive in the live setting. “Sunny Baby” offered shimmering brightness that worked perfectly under the stage’s blue wash of light, and “Junk of the Heart (Happy)” reminded everyone that, even post their debut era, The Kooks have always been capable of crafting hooks massive enough to fill rooms like this.
Before launching into “See Me Now”, Pritchard paused and dedicated the song to his father, who passed away when he was just three years old. It was one of the moments where the tempo subsided entirely. You could feel a hush fall over the space; thousands of people stilled, phones held steady more out of respect than documentation. The vulnerability of that performance stood out starkly against the endless cheery energy that The Kooks are known for. It was the kind of personal grounding that gives a set emotional balance.
From there, the night picked up in full mischievous swing with “Jackie Big Tits” and “If They Could Only Know”, before one of the evening’s most memorable occurrences — Pritchard pulling a fan named Joe from the crowd to play acoustic guitar for “Seaside”. The gamble paid off: Joe nailed it, visibly shaking but hitting every chord while the crowd roared encouragement. It was charming, chaotic, and human; a genuine connection between band and audience that elevated the show from polished indie nostalgia to heartfelt experience. There’s something about hearing Seaside sung by thousands that reminds you why The Kooks’ early songs resonated the way they did — simplicity, storytelling, and an unfiltered sincerity that feels increasingly rare nowadays.
Raphael Buisson Enlas
After that moment, the surprises kept rolling. As the band launched into “Sway”. It was the first time it had been played since 2019, and it sounded enormous. The guitars hit with heavier distortion, the chorus a wave of motion across the standing floor. Clearly, the band were feeding on the audience’s contagious energy, and they kept ripping through tour debuts one after the other: “Shine On”, “Connection”, “Taking Pictures of You”, each received with affection, even if the older fans didn’t know every word.
What stood out throughout the evening was just how tight the band sounded. For a group so long associated with breezy charm and rough-around-the-edges indie looseness, there’s now a mature precision to their live performance. Everything hit exactly where it should, but without sacrificing the impulsive spark that made them who they are. Tracks like “Gap and Down” (played for the first time since 2018) proved that they could still snarl a little when needed, pulling out unexpected grit between the more melodic crowd-pleasers.
As the main set drew toward its conclusion, “See the World” and “Matchbox” pushed the tempo back into frantic territory, the crowd clapping along uncontrollably. “Do You Wanna” and “You Don’t Love Me” followed in rapid succession, classic Kooks swagger that sent the entire arena into chaos. Beer cups flew, people hoisted friends onto shoulders, and for those few songs, it might as well have been 2006 again.
When the band left the stage, the entire venue erupted into a football-style chant of “Ooh La, Ooh La,” already anticipating the encore. It was almost as if they willed the band back by collective force. Sure enough, the lights lifted, and Pritchard reappeared with a grin that stretched ear to ear before launching straight into “Ooh La” itself. The whole place bounced as one.
But of course, there was only one way this show could end, “Naïve”. The instant those first jangling chords rang out, the arena became a single voice. Every person in the crowd screamed the lyrics with reckless joy, a chorus that drowned even the massive PA. It might be overplayed; you might hear it in every indie disco on the planet, but live, it remains a transcendent moment. For those few minutes, time collapsed completely; you could almost see every member of the audience flashing back to whatever moment in their life that song first meant something.
The Kooks – Raphael Buisson Enlas
When the last note echoed away, The Kooks stood at the edge of the stage, visibly moved. Pritchard thanked Manchester for what he called “a night we’ll never forget,” and you believed him. Bands can give that line all night long, but every once in a while, it sounds true.
Walking out into the cool night air, still humming Naïve, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this show was more than just nostalgia. The Kooks may forever be associated with that mid-2000s British indie explosion, but tonight proved they’ve quietly outlasted almost all of their contemporaries. They can fill an arena with ease, sound every bit as vibrant as they did on their debut, and connect with new audiences who weren’t even alive when those songs first topped charts.
At Co-op Live, surrounded by thousands of fans singing joyously, it was impossible not to feel swept up in it all. Somewhere between youthful memory and present-day celebration, The Kooks reminded everyone why their songs stuck around, because beneath the skinny-jeaned image and breezy indie charm, they’ve always written with heart. And as they left the stage to roaring cheers, you got the sense that for both band and fans alike, this wasn’t just a reunion with the past. It was proof that the music still lives.
