It isn't working out. “Is anyone from Blackpool?” he asks this sleepy old seaside town, and gets the faintest chattering of cheers. Most of the audience have clearly travelled in, but it's the only awry moment as the ornate old Opera House provides the perfect backdrop for a magical evening of his music.
Last time out, Vernon was backed by so many musicians it's a wonder he could fit them all on stage. Here, it's just a drummer, a bassist who plays saxophone, and Vernon, who as well as singing and playing guitar and keyboard, tinkers with so many gadgets that he forgets to turn one of them up. “I was doing some really cool loopy stuff there,” he laughs, taking off his headphones, “that nobody could hear except myself.” This comical clanger aside, the trio prove more than adept at reproducing 22, A Million's playful sonic trickery without ever quite taking the focus off the singing or the songs. Older songs such as the hymnal Flume (for which they're joined by harpist Mikaela Davis) tap into Vernon's more traditional well of melancholy and sadness, but the new record's formidably titled 10 dEAThBReasT sounds as if he is accompanied by an Aphex Twin remix full of marching soldiers.
Lately, he has started to realise that he can use his platform as a force for change, whether personal or universal. He shouts out for the Lancashire Women's Centres – in attendance – and takes an angry jab at events in America: “People out there trying to take other people's freedoms away and that is just bullshit.” Mostly, though, he seems to be reconnecting with the simple joy of playing music for other people. “I tell you what,” he says, as songs – from his own 33 “GOD” to a stunning cover of Leon Russell's A Song for You – are met with ever louder cheering, “this – this! – is fun.”
