I’ve always put Keane in the same category as The Killers or Coldplay, a band that’s really a U2 cover act at heart, but somewhere along the way picked up some tricks from some hipsters and jotted down their own catchy jingles. But, Keane blew me away when I saw them. These Brits put every Red Bull or GURU they’ve ever consumed into each song, and in the flesh their tunes lose that commercial tincture. Tom Chaplin’s voice sonorously levitates during ballads, and gallantly roars during heavy numbers. I’ll admit the music is still simple, but it feels more maturely concise than juvenile or gimmicky. And a new song they played, Sovereign Light Café, revealed a bit of edge the band might take up in their next album. But really, it’s the audience that floored me, ranging from pre-pubescent to old timers just short of using a walker. I caught one senior citizen head-banging to Spiralling, which by the way ignited a fire under the asses of a crowd already hopped up on god-knows-what. Keane fans know every song and their proud and ready to sing along, or shout along like the biker who ominously stood next to me all night. Chaplin was somewhat of a politician between songs, diplomatically congratulating us on our wonderful country and scrupulously thanking us with graceful gestures and waves that the Queen herself would be proud of (he’s an Englishman after all). Bedshaped rattled us in our cages, while their cover of Under Pressure was somewhat mishandled for a band that was in shape till the end. I won’t say I was enamored, but two hours went by too quickly. I’ll certainly give categories a second thought.