Echo and the Bunnymen – Ian McCulloch leaves it to the crowd to sing these timelessly great songs

The frontman struggled to get through most of the band’s choruses but that left space for Will Sergeant’s glorious psychedelic shapes and a supportive sing along

Ian McCulloch once cheekily described the Bunnymen as “the greatest band in the world, the greatest songs in the history of time and the greatest singer”, although you’d be hard pushed to find evidence of the latter at this show. Things begin promisingly enough with the darkly powerful Going Up and All That Jazz from 1980’s Crocodiles, the first of the terrific four-album run which blended psychedelia, post-punk and classic songwriting to turn the Liverpudlians into one of most hallowed bands of the decade.

However, the singer seems to be suddenly irritated by the bass sound, and grows increasingly tetchy as he jabs a finger towards an amplifier and summons a crew member on stage. After starting the gig standing tall in trademark shades and overcoat, McCulloch then requests a stool and remains perched on it for the rest of the night, sipping and mumbling incoherently between songs. At 66, the singer can’t be expected to hit the notes he did aged 22, but he doesn’t attempt the choruses of Bring on the Dancing Horses, leaving them to the crowd before abruptly leading the band offstage.

At least the second set has its moments. Seven Seas becomes another massed sing along and The Cutter and Lips Like Sugar have a sprinkling of resplendence, but even a glittering back catalogue can’t quite cover a singer so troublingly off his game. A mercy, then, for Will Sergeant. Now sporting a tiny grey beard which makes him look like an inscrutable Russian novelist, the guitarist who formed the band with McCulloch in 1978 seems to take it upon himself to honour their legacy. He unleashes torrents of glorious psychedelic shapes and pop riffs. His 12-string playing in The Killing Moon – which may actually be one of the “greatest songs in the history of time” – is particularly exquisite, which makes it so desperately sad to hear the singer struggling to get through this most precious jewel in their discography. For the umpteenth time this evening, the crowd sing it for him, and sing it properly.

• Echo and the Bunnymen play Albert Hall, Manchester, on 11 March; then touring