The year is 2003. Tony Blair and Gordon
Brown are safely guiding the UK through the longest
period of sustained economic growth in recorded
history, Concorde has made its final commercial
flight, Dirty Den has made a triumphant return
to Eastenders and British troops have landed in
Iraq, kickstarting the never ending ‘war
on terror’, which happens to be the only
known war to have been declared on a noun. The
year will also be remembered for the rapid ascension
of The Darkness; a spandex clad, glitterbomb of
retro cock rock, hell bent on taking the UK charts
– and popular culture – by storm.
Their debut album Permission to Land gatecrashed
the album charts, landing at number two in July
2003 before eventually hitting number one and
staying there for a month. It seemed that everyone,
everywhere, loved The Darkness.
The next twelve months brought BRIT awards, Kerrang!
awards, sell out tours and fully fledged drug
addictions. 2005’s follow up album One Way
Ticket to Hell...and Back was released to mixed
reviews, and struggled in the charts, marking
the beginning of the decline for the Lowestoft
glam rockers. The following years brought rehab,
lead singer Justin Hawkin’s departure and
an ill-advised solo attempt at entering the Eurovision
Song Contest. By late 2011, the band had reformed,
toured small venues and supported Lady Gaga. In
2012, the band released their latest album, Hot
Cakes. Nobody seemed to notice.
Fast forward to November 2013 and the band, riding
a wave of public demand for anything that evokes
the slightest semblance of nostalgia, headlined
Camden’s Electric Ballroom, supported by
River 68’s and Lost Alone. The result was,
for want of less clichéd term, a game of
two halves.
Rivers 68 opened the evening up with an impressive
blend of bohemian bluesy rock which seemed to
entertain the audience as they were filing in
from the high street.
Next up were 3 piece rockers Lost Alone, treated
the now near-capacity crowd to a melodic and stomping
set full of screeching guitar solos and searing
vocals. Their brief foray into crowd participation
went down about as well as full beard at a Movember
party but they were certainly enthusiastic, full
of attitude and swagger in their delivery while
their general sound was much fuller than many
other three piece bands have been able to muster.
In many ways, Lost Alone are the perfect support
act on such a night – bravado, nostalgia
and hairspray.
As the final few filled the venue, the opening
bars of Thin Lizzy’s The Boys are Back in
Town rang out of the PA system – and onstage
came The Darkness. Wiry, weathered and ready to
rock. Justin – spandex jumpsuit aside –
was almost unrecognisable from the 2003 version.
Although his new appearance upon rejoining the
band has been widely documented in the media,
there was still something that didn’t sit
quite right in terms of how most fondly remember
him; his trademark lank wavy locks replaced with
a bobbed perm, and trimmed facial hair now sits
proudly upon the lower part of previously clean
shaven face, however all superficial differences
were soon forgotten the moment he bellowed the
opening bars of vocal.
The first half of the set was primarily for the
new material from Hot Cakes, and as such, was
admittedly largely forgettable. “This first
set is what we like to call...the curiosity set”
conceded the lanky frontman. And, in all fairness,
there was a sense that the crowd were tolerating
the newer material rather than appreciating it.
After all, nobody goes to the cinema to enjoy
the seeming endless plethora of Coke adverts and
Adam Sandler trailers prior to the film starting.
The main highlight of the first half of the set
was the cover of Radiohead’s Street Spirit,
which, as I said the first time I heard it and
still say to this day, is equal parts impressive
and unabashed musical buggery. Eventually, the
first half closed with an energetic rendition
of One Way Ticket – complete with cowbell
– and it was then time for the interlude.
The second half was what we the audience, and
presumably the band, had been waiting for. What
played out over the next 45 minutes or so was
Permission to Land in tracklist order, and all
in attendance weren’t disappointed.
Black Shuck opened the nostalgia set, and sounded
as good live in 2013 as it had on record ten years
earlier. Ed Graham (looking at least 30 years
older than I’m sure he is) worked overtime
on the drums, and the falsetto vocals were every
bit as powerful as the pre-cocaine and heroin
days. Get Your Hands off My Woman drew one of
the biggest responses from the crowd, partly due
to Justin’s insistence, but mainly because
of the customary open-legged handstand he performed.
It’s still quite a sight to behold.
Of course, everyone’s favourite ode to sexually
transmitted diseases Your Really Growing on Me
brought the house down, and I Believe in a Thing
Called Love, as you’d expect from any great
pop song, provided the biggest sing along of the
evening. The band entertained throughout the gig,
bouncing around and high kicking with the energy
of men ten years their junior, although it was
no surprise when after five songs Justin calmed
things down a little to engage with a particularly
vocal member of the crowd:
“You’ve been yelling at me all night.
What’s your name, mate?” Asked Justin
“BRIAN!” Shouted the loud bastard
“Do you know what song’s coming next,
Brian?”
“TRACK 6!” he yelled back. Genius.
By the time Love on The Rocks rolled around, women
who are now probably too old and married to be
on the shoulders of their husbands/boyfriends
were being held up on the shoulders of men too
old to be lifting things and everyone was having
a pretty decent evening, the vocals were pitch
perfect, the riffs were loud, distorted and crunchy,
and the solos were soaring. It was enough to make
you remember why they were so popular in the first
place – a band just having fun and in no
way taking themselves seriously.
The encore came, and to absolutely nobody’s
surprise it was Christmas Time (Don’t Let
the Bells End). It may have been six weeks too
early, but nobody was in a bah humbug kind of
mood – it seemed fitting that the evening’s
closing chapter was left to possibly the finest
song they’ve written, the song that will
be on Christmas compilations long after The Darkness
finally hang up their spandex for good.
The Darkness 4/5
Review By Jack Turner
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