Killing Joke
Royal Festival Hall, London
01/04/2011

There aren’t many – in fact, arguably any – other bands who can lay claim to being a major influence on acts as diverse as Nirvana, Metallica, U2, The Orb and Napalm Death. While post-punk heroes Killing Joke may never have made it to the stadium-filling status of those they inspired, tonight they show they’re still more than capable of sounding bigger, meaner, darker and more powerful than anyone else on the planet.

Their very survival for thirty years without selling out, diluting their sound or treading creative water, means that every gathering of their fans feels like a celebration. But tonight‘s occupation of the grandiose Festival Hall by a tribe encompassing towering mohicans, stoners in Hawkwind shirts, goths, techno geeks and pierced cyberpunks, feels special even by their standards. Flanked by massive floor-to ceiling Killing Joke banners, the band – back in their original line up – take to the stage to the soaring synths of the ‘Bladerunner’ theme, the screen behind them showing belching clouds of red smoke as the hall takes to its feet. There’s a hint of feedback from guitarist Geordie, drummer Big Paul beats out a fierce tribal rhythm, Youth adds a juddering bassline and we’re plunged into ‘Unspeakable’, singer Jaz Coleman alternating from terrifying growls to echoing, almost operatic vocal projection.

Drawing heavily but not exclusively from their first two albums, they sustain a feverish intensity throughout by constantly switching the mood. A luxurious ‘Love Like Blood’ is followed by a clattering, violent ‘Change’. The slow, heavy dub of ‘Requiem’ and ‘Ghosts of Ladbroke Grove’ only serve to make proto-thrash track ‘The Wait’ sound crushing, even gnarlier than usual. The frenetic ‘Eighties’ – the song Kurt Cobain used as a template for ‘Come As You Are’ – is backed by footage of Brixton riots and National Front marchers filling the screen, before the closing ‘Pandemonium’ sees Coleman repeatedly declaring: “I can see tomorrow”. Given this magical performance, even the most sceptical might be prepared to believe him.

Ben Willmott