At the end of this UK tour, The Darkness have a date booked in at Wembley Arena. Overly optimistic? Entirely, one might say, considering an earlier three-day streak on this run completed in all-seated halls, where frontman Justin Hawkinsâ own admission says it allââOh fuck, it was shit!â Itâs a rather strange tour that The Darkness have chosen to embark on here, with no apparent consistency in venue size, and coming a couple of weeks before their new album Dreams On Toast, thus cleaving a lot of promotional synergy. To a degree, you almost get the impression itâs the sort of thing they have to do. In the public eye, theyâre very much past itâa million miles from their beloved debut Permission To Land, fully ditching the sorta-parody glam-metal in favour of independent hard rock thatâs had all commercial viability bled from it. To the queue of mostly oldies snaking around Mountford Hall, though, that couldnât matter less; a rock ânâ roll Friday night out is its own reward.
Perhaps thatâs also the logic behind having Ash in support, another band whoâve sunk into their own comfortable niche thatâs been compartmentalised among an âolder rockâ demographic. Donât confuse that for being washed-up, mind, because itâs certainly not the case. For a humbler rock outfit over 30 years deep, Ash still have a lot of willingness to put the work in. The rhythm section especially drills into their craft, as Mark Hamiltonâs basswork proves way more dexterous and intricate than it needs to, and Rick McMurray has a real fondness for giving his drum kit a good battering, with some particular brawn on Orpheus.
In fact, the first leg of the set proves surprisingly progressive in sound overall, as Ash adventure into more detailed compositions with a lot of confidence. The only black mark is Tim Wheelerâs tinnier squeal on the solo of Angel Interceptor; otherwise, itâs all great. And after that, when they snap into power-pop and alt-rock thatâs quicker to breeze byâyâknow, the area where Girl From Mars and Burn Baby Burn liveâit might be even better. Even a cover of Harry Belafonteâs Jump In The Line (which is inexplicably being released as a single) is a lot of fun, and thankfully proves that Wheeler has the willpower to stave off some more egregious patois. That alone could serve as a microcosm for how unexpectedly, improbably good Ash are.
Better than tonightâs headliners, in fact? Well, The Darkness do get off on some shakier footing with Rock And Roll Party Cowboy, a song from the upcoming album that shows off some of the post-heyday ennui that theyâre no strangers to. Considering the burned-in mental image of The Darkness is still Justin Hawkins with his jumpsuit and long, scraggly hair, the more straightforward, musically conservative incarnation thatâs subsumed their earlier flash well and truly doesnât scratch the same itch. It doesnât take the most eagle-eyed of onlookers to notice an uptick of energy when the second and third songs are Growing On Me and Get Your Hands Off My Woman, from both crowd and band. Theyâre Permission To Land-era songs, not The Big One but still held airtight in the memory banks as youâd expect from a 4x Platinum albumâs cuts.
Maybe getting those done early on actually flips some kind of switch, because The Darkness seem more effective going forward. Their more theatrical tendencies havenât gone away completely, not when youâve got a frontman as prone to borderline-comical heliumated high notes as Hawkins is. And to be fair to him, he does nail every one. Heâs really the factor that continues to see this unit rise, blessed with buckets of charisma and humourâthe running gag of taking pops at Mumford And Sons lands every single timeâand a palpable, classic rockstar vibe. His swagger and vamping is cranked all the way on Mortal Dread when heâs free from his guitar, and really does cross over for the majority of whatâs to come. Songs like Motorheart and Barbarian reap the most tangible benefits of a live glow-up, fiery and barrel-chested with The Darkness clearly throwing themselves in. Even in the atmospheric shift from the classics to theâŠnot, you canât say that the band arenât playing with as much conviction as they can muster.
Honestly, when you look at the arena dates pencilled in down the line, you begin to feel how much more at home The Darkness seem in a venue like this. When they arenât about overtly grand flamboyances anymore, they can tap into a harder, more solid rock core that suits these intimate climes much better. If nothing else, thereâs a vestige of larger-than-life personality maintained, when a song like Friday Night is the kind of party-rock frivolity that has more of a presence here, and that the older crowd that The Darkness draw could well view as the pinnacle of current rock music. The bones are definitely thrown to that audience; the band are obviously aware that thatâs their primary demographic now, so playing snippets of Immigrant Song or Crazy Little Thing Called Love have that resonant potential. Even more so, when we do get to I Believe In A Thing Called Love, Hawkinsâ decision to stop partway and tell the crowds to put their phones away to savour the moment is just asking for plaudits from the right people. And if thatâs where The Darkness want to be, so be it. Itâs not like itâs bad for them; not at all. Even with a peak thatâs miles behind them and mainstream potential thatâs a shadow of what it once was, The Darknessâ capacity for a good time is far from running dry.
Words by Luke Nuttall
Photos by Maryleen (Instagram / Website)
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