Steps review: a jubilant pop extravaganza in a Nineties time capsule
Pre-millennial pop was a different planet, in some respects. Physical formats (CDs, magazines) were the big-hitters; stars were shaped behind-the-scenes rather than on TV competitions; songs could be simultaneously massive yet dismissed as “throwaway”. British five-piece Steps (aka Faye Tozer, Claire Richards, Ian “H” Watkins, Lisa Scott-Lee, and Lee Latchford-Evans) originally bubbled out of this late Nineties world: fashioned as a frothy gimmick band with line-dancing choreography, and infamously likened to “ABBA on speed” by pop mogul Pete Waterman.
Steps were always brightly frivolous; in the best pop spirit, they have also proved gloriously confounding – and nearly 25 years after their debut, with a split, a 2011 reformation, and seven studio albums under their sparkly belts, they were on storming form for the first of two London dates on their national arena tour.
To be precise, four-fifths of Steps were on storming form, because poor Tozer (“smiley Steps”) was still isolating. Despite the ongoing pandemic – or partly because of it – the show went on with resolutely escapist style. Following an upbeat kitchen disco warm-up from Sophie Ellis-Bextor (still going impressively strong after her recent 24hr charity danceathon), the band emerged from a sci-fi “cube” that had displayed a hot pink neon countdown to showtime, and launched into a non-stop two-hour set that was hi-NRG, high camp, and packed with infectious anthems right from the fantastically melodramatic opener What The Future Holds (a 2020 single penned by heavyweights Sia and Greg Kurstin).
Steps have always commanded a mighty rapport with their fanbase, partly because their tunes and moves felt universally accessible; I remember being struck by this the first time I saw them, playing a pop all-dayer in 1998. That fanbase has evidently grown with them; the 02 arena crowds mostly comprised excitable thirty- and fortysomethings (including myself), who cheered rapturously each time a different band member sang their part – and even for Tozer, simply appearing onscreen.
The concert staging was headily reminiscent of a late Nineties pop extravaganza, with sleek yet enjoyably silly set-pieces and costumes: a space odyssey; a Sixties shakedown; a “Stepflix” period drama; hyperactive backing dancers in a variety of surreal get-ups; a revolving turntable stage for numbers including Take Me For A Ride.
At the same time, Steps seem to have jubilantly hit their stride in the digital age. The pop productions sounded confidently weightier, with additional classics packed into the mix: their boot-scootin’ debut single 5678 was mashed up with Dee-Lite’s 1990 hit Groove Is In The Heart; a buoyant cover of Kylie’s Better The Devil You Know was blended with Madonna’s Vogue – with a “remixed” spoken section brilliantly checking Smash Hits magazine and a golden age of pop (“Britney Spears – we love you!”).
When H declared: “If I wasn’t in Steps, I would love Steps!”, it sounded brilliantly heartfelt; when the band credited the long-standing support of their LGBTQ fans, and H spoke about his own coming out experience, it was genuinely moving. There was something incredibly potent about the combination of catchy tunes and muscle memory; if you loved these tunes the first time round, it was almost impossible not to throw the accompanying shapes (counting fingers for One For Sorrow; hands aloft for the uproarious encore of their Bee Gees cover Tragedy).
The set-list was clearly fuelled by pop passion, across superbly bittersweet new tunes including the latest single A Hundred Years Of Winter (co-written by Darren Hayes), archive chart-toppers such as 2000’s Stomp (deeply influenced by Chic), and cherry-picked covers spanning Diana Ross (Chain Reaction) to Five Star (The Slightest Touch). Pop might not be the font of eternal youth, but these movers and shakers proved it could be an endless glitterball thrill.
