Duran Duran, Ice Arena, Nottingham

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Duran Duran must be laughing right now. For the last decade, they've been widely derided as all that was wrong with the aspirational Eighties: their yachts, models and other excesses proved they were good at being successful, but they were rubbish at everything else. They aimed to make funk-fuelled, futurist synth-pop with art-school slap on, but were always stymied by their blokish arrangements, vocals and videos, with their Boy's Own adventures and women with not much on.

Duran Duran must be laughing right now. For the last decade, they've been widely derided as all that was wrong with the aspirational Eighties: their yachts, models and other excesses proved they were good at being successful, but they were rubbish at everything else. They aimed to make funk-fuelled, futurist synth-pop with art-school slap on, but were always stymied by their blokish arrangements, vocals and videos, with their Boy's Own adventures and women with not much on.

And yet for their 25th anniversary, the reformed, "classic'' 1980-1985 line-up has sold out a sizeable arena tour, ready to dance its way - shoulders first - back into the affections of their late-thirtysomething fanbase. It's like being in the thick of a Friends Reunited convention. Much of this must be down to a renewal of interest in all things Eighties, from hair metal (The Darkness) to Morrissey. Duran Duran have also had the patronage of younger bands such as The Faint and the Dandy Warhols, and even roped in the Scissor Sisters and Goldfrapp to support on the tour. The latter set a high sartorial standard, with Alison Goldfrapp's glittering get-up and tassled tail (yes, she's wearing a tail) proving a match for her band's electro-disco.

A pompous opening aside, though, Duran Duran do well to start with, "Hungry Like The Wolf'' and "Planet Earth'' proving they could write decently daft, well-chiselled pop songs back in the flush of youth. They look sharp, too: as their uber-stud bassist, John Taylor, kneels centre-stage, and the singer, Simon Le Bon, works the audience, the appreciative screams suggest that a few thousand teen crushes are being relived. Prolonged exposure, though, puts their comeback into perspective.

In fact, as befits the new romantic Spinal Tap, over two hours the concert provides a little too much perspective. Duran Duran may have had arty affectations, but these days "tasteful" yet flavourless arena rock is their poison. "A View To A Kill'' reminds you of nothing other than the era of microwave food and Roger Moore as James Bond, while a new song, "What Happens Tomorrow'', is a turgid, Oasis-esque chugger with sanctimonious lyrics to boot. What started out as fun becomes an endurance test. There are seemingly endless sax and guitar solos, and the token lighter-waving stadium ballad in the shape of the band's early Nineties comeback hit, "Ordinary World''. Worse still, there is thumpingly awful white funk in "Is There Something I Should Know?'', with Le Bon's voice at its most reedy. They mess up the opening to it as well, and in the end, this thudding clumsiness gets the better of them.

While the likes of "Notorious'' and "Wild Boys'' are forgiveably silly, their oafish, bawling charmlessness is another thing altogether. Still, Duran Duran were only ever good at being famous, so perhaps it's fitting that they're fun for 15 minutes and not much more nowadays.

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