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" Has pop music \u00E2\u20AC\u201C an art form that\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s supposed to be fun, frivolous and slightly irreverent \u00E2\u20AC\u201C ever been as po-faced as it was on Saturday? The Live Earth concert series aimed to \u00E2\u20AC\u0153bring together more than 100 music artists and two billion people to trigger a global movement to solve the climate crisis\u00E2\u20AC&#157;. Eek! And to think we thought music was here to entertain us! It\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s too soon to say whether the sight of six ab-flashing, hip-shaking, tit-jiggling burlesque dancers will impel us stop taking too many plastic bags at Tesco\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s, but one vital issue can be tackled now: was Live Earth a good gig? The London event \u00E2\u20AC\u201C one of eight happening across the globe, in seven different continents - started with Genesis. Their four-song set, including spirited versions of \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCInvisible Touch\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 and \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCLand of Confusion&amp;#039;, made sound etymological sense, but the overall effect was cripplingly middle-aged. Did anyone really think that noodley old dad-rock would be enough to save the planet? It took a youthful jolt of energy from Johnny Borrell and Razorlight to bring the event to life: the London band&amp;#039;s renditions of &amp;#039;In The Morning&amp;#039;, &amp;#039;America&amp;#039; and &amp;#039;Los Angeles Waltz&amp;#039; were as bright and efficient an energy-saving light bulb.  Sadly, Snow Patrol didn\u00E2\u20AC\u2122t seem to realise that playing a song called \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCShut Your Eyes\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 after one called \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCOpen Your Eyes\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 might be a bit confusing for the audience. Well, which one is it, guys? Should we keep \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCem peeled or are we allowed to take a little snooze before Damien Rice comes on? Of course there was nothing confusing about the day\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s message, which was hammered home via a series of cringe-inducing onstage appearances from minor celebrities. T4 presenter June Sarpong, apparently, is the woman best-placed to deliver the kick up the arse that the world needs. Then - after a barnstorming set from Kasabian, an energetic performance from the Black Eyed Peas and a snoozesome bit of ivory-tinkling from John Legend \u00E2\u20AC\u201C Geri Halliwell toddled onstage. Sadly, Ginger Spice wasn\u00E2\u20AC\u2122t joined by her four girlie mates, a turn of events that cruelly robbed the gig&amp;#039;s middle-stretch of anything resembling the wow factor. Instead, she introduced Duran Duran, who looked rather pleased with themselves for being blessed with the foresight, back in 1980, to write a song called \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCPlanet Earth\u00E2\u20AC\u2122. Sensibly, they stuck to the hits \u00E2\u20AC\u201C \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCOrdinary World\u00E2\u20AC\u2122, \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCNotorious\u00E2\u20AC\u2122, \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCGirls on Film\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 and, of course, that peculiarly prescient slice of new wave \u00E2\u20AC\u201C but the effect was somewhat dimmed by the fact we\u00E2\u20AC\u2122d seen them do a similar set at the Diana concert six days previously. Still, Nick Rhodes\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 hair looked nice.  The Red Hot Chili Peppers offered the day\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s first proper singalong moment when they gave us a rampaging version of \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCBy The Way\u00E2\u20AC\u2122, but Bloc Party\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s angular art-rock was too jerky, too knowing and too slight for a gig of this magnitude. Similarly underwhelming was Corinne Bailey Rae, whose pleasant jazz-soul warblings were more suited to the lunchtime stint at All Bar One than an iconoclastic rock concert purporting to save the world. By now, the end was in sight. The Pussycat Dolls brought a bit of glamour to proceedings, but their set posed as many questions as it answered. Do any of the seven dolls \u00E2\u20AC\u201C aside from the ravishing Nicole Scherzinger \u00E2\u20AC\u201C actually sing? Which one of them has got the the fittest body? Don&amp;#039;t cha feel glad that your girlfriend isn\u00E2\u20AC\u2122t the Doll who looks a bit like a man? And then came the moment that exposed Live Earth\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s inconvenient truth: the line-up just wasn\u00E2\u20AC\u2122t good enough. Who had Al Gore flown in \u00E2\u20AC\u201C not by private jet of course, that would be bad for a rock star\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s carbon footprint \u00E2\u20AC\u201C to see us through before Madonna came on? Who had the star quality, the multi-generational appeal and the all-consuming enormohits to take such an important spot on the bill? The Stones? Elton? Robbie? Nah, we were fobbed off with the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl hollered \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCtil he was blue in the face for almost half an hour, but it wasn&amp;#039;t enough. On these occasions, whether you like \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCDon\u00E2\u20AC\u2122t Let The Sun Go Down On Me\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 or \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCAngels\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 is almost irrelevant; the important thing is that you know, and can chant along to, all the words. Almost nobody at Wembley seemed to know more than a few snatched lyrics of \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCAll My Life\u00E2\u20AC\u2122 or \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCBest Of You&amp;#039;, which is why the Foo Fighters should have come on at 1.45, not 9.45.  But then, before we&amp;#039;d even had time to sulk, Live Earth handed us a nice paradox. Just as Wembley was plunged into darkness to symbolise the energy-saving efforts we should all be making, God gave us light. Strutting like a catwalk model, dancing like a woman who\u00E2\u20AC\u2122d lived but half of her 48 years, singing as well as she ever has, Madonna almost managed to save Live Earth. The sight of the world\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s most famous woman jigging around the stage with two gypsy punks from Gogol Bordello \u00E2\u20AC\u201C although, let\u00E2\u20AC\u2122s face it, they could have been any old pair of ragamuffins from the Woolworths doorway \u00E2\u20AC\u201C was the first genuinely surprising moment of the day. Followed by a lusty version of \u00E2\u20AC\u02DCHung Up\u00E2\u20AC\u2122, which succeeded in recreating the hedonistic glamour of Studio 54 in a 90,000-seater football stadium, the effect was dazzling. Whether Live Earth was spectacular enough to compel us to combat climate change remains to be seen, but the event did at least reaffirm an incontrovertible truth: The Queen is not dead. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.digitalspy.com/music/news/a65019/live-earth-was-it-any-good/>