There are three variables that made enjoying Ted Leo difficult at the Paradiso. First and foremost, it was pissing outside; absolutely pouring. Apparently Amsterdam has a monsoon season called June, and the trend continued as heaps of water, drops big enough to pierce ears, fell on me, making the bike ride to the venue a treat. Plus, it was humid enough that pedaling like drunken Leeds United fans were giving chase made me awfully sweaty, not to mention wet. Ever been sweaty and wet at the same time? Not the best feeling out there, admittedly. Second variable: the half-packed Paradiso, filled with other scraggly, pissed-off-from-the-rain Ted Leo fans, was as humid as it was outside. I gave up on feeling comfortable.

A few beers in, Ted Leo and his rag-tag band of Pharmacists emerge, noticeably dryer and less sweaty that I - note the jealousy - and launch into ‘Sons of Cain’, a power chord-heavy standout from the new long player Living with the Living. Immediately, the last of the three problematic variables attacks: the show is fucking loud. Uselessly, needlessly, annoyingly loud. Loud with a capital L. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists are not a hardcore band, and there is absolutely no point in turning everything up to eleven hundred, and throughout their hour-long and albeit spirited set the sheer loudness of the set became too much. Somewhat lubricated, still wet, sweaty and now deaf, I gave up on the performance after about an hour. Call me old, but I value my hearing; without it, I am out of a job.

The performance? Well, it was mediocre. Ted himself was the star of the show, as it should be, but his triage of accompaniment failed to keep up. All the energy, chutzpah and pop prowess emoting from their music focused on Leo, but instead of buttressing his talent behind strong musicianship the band made mistakes, and the songs suffered as a result. The song selection was excellent; my personal favourite, and everyone else’s it seems, ‘Me and Mia’ was fiery, genuine and contagious. ‘The Unwanted Things’, ‘Colleen’ and ‘A Bottle of Buckie’ followed suit. Each song translated well live and Leo performed with honesty, and confidence. But again, too fucking loud. Same goes for older gems ‘Biomusicology’, ‘Counting Down The Hours’ and the devilishly funky ‘The Angels’ Share’. Leo was spot on, his band was adequate more or less, and a handful of head-bangers with no hearing whatsoever lapped up the proceedings at the front, bopping to each note. Still, it was louder than arguing with Tony Robbins, and after a dozen similar sounding exercises it all became unbearable. Too many power chords wrecking havoc on my hearing.

Ted Leo is a capable songwriter, as he has showcased through a series of impressive albums and a ludicrous amount of touring in support. Plus, he did not bring the rain or humidity and, to a certain extent, did not control the sound levels. Saying that, a great show can elevate even the worst of moods, and for whatever reason, this hour-long popish, punkish, rockish jaunt failed to get me up. I felt like I was testing car alarms after spending an evening in the sea. I bet that the same performance on a day with better weather with a sensible decibel level would leave me wanting more, but on this night, unable to enjoy proceedings, I gave up. Oh, and it poured on the way home, too. My jeans are still drying out.