But not in the way you might have expected.
It’s been hard to avoid the air of finality around these gigs. The valedictory nature of Collins’s Testimonial Tour – “a last lap around the UK” as the pre-publicity had it – has seen many of those who have worked with Collins over the years, whether with the band Orange Juice or in his solo career, returning to join him onstage.
In Glasgow, some 12 nights beforehand, former bandmates James Kirk and Steven Daly had even appeared. But tonight – with one notable exception – it was just Collins and his five-piece backing band. They were lined up across the back of the stage as if ceding the limelight to the man whose name was spelt out in huge letters behind them.
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And yet there was no sense of sadness or solemnity about Collins’s leave-taking appearance in the Queen’s Hall. The overriding feeling was joyousness, I think. All of us joined together to celebrate one of Scottish pop’s most idiosyncratic talents.
Having survived two cerebral haemorrhages in 2005 which continue to affect his mobility and have left him living with aphasia, any Collins appearances onstage should be celebrated. They are an act of will. To watch him perform is undeniably affecting. Seated for the most part, he is a vision of self-control and concentration. And he remains an expressive singer, still able to use that baritone voice of his to maximum effect when he needs to.
There was no doubt that Collins was the star of the show. Perhaps his band were a little too willing to let him be so at the beginning. But by the time they launched into the Orange Juice classic What Presence?! they had found a snarl and a swagger that complimented the night.
Edwyn Collins is one of Scottish pop’s most idiosyncratic talents (Image: PR)
There were so many moments to cherish here. Collins starting to laugh in the middle of Falling and Laughing. His repeated shouts of “Go Patrick” every time his guitarist started to solo. The emphatic “Yes” he shouted at the end of I Can’t Help Myself. The steely “Shoosh” to the audience when the applause came in too soon.
There were a couple of times when it was hard to avoid the weight of the evening. For an encore Collins returned to the stage to sing Low Expectations from his 1994 Gorgeous George album. It was a slow-burn sultry delight and a reminder that Collins was always something of a crooner. And, earlier, on In Your Eyes, he was joined onstage by the evening’s one special guest, his son William, to hugely moving effect. Their duet was perhaps the evening’s highlight.
But, ultimately, tonight was a reminder that those early skittering Orange Juice records have a light and a life that not even the heaviness of experience can extinguish. Songs such as Felicity and Rip It Up are little time machines. They remind us that we were all young once. And there were moments this evening when the years just fell away. That was Edwyn’s final onstage gift to us. There is maybe no better one.