(Should've been mine! But at least she let me get a pic of it...)
The
hosts of my first ever gig, the brutal, uncompromising force of nature (think
earthquakes, hurricanes, that type of force…) that are original primal
punk survivors Killing Joke, announced a special performance at London’s
prestige Royal Albert Hall, showcasing their first 2 albums, the eponymous primal
assault of “Killing Joke” and the industrial sheet-metal synth and tumbling
tribal rhythm of “What’s This For?” (the second of which, of course, they were
promoting as a new release, waaaay back at that landmark June 1981 gig no. 1!),
so I was in like a shot! Having seen them do this exact same thing at Kentish
Town Forum back in 2008 (gig 756), I was hoping that time hadn’t diminished
their fire, and this would be another “savage yet euphoric” celebration of two
of the most influential albums of that immediate post-punk era. Floor standing
for me for this one too; this music deserved to be experienced, not just
heard, Wardancing in the melee with the other Joke acolytes…
Knowing
that I could take a battering, I prepared in advance; so, lenses and shorts
firmly in place, and otherwise held together with neoprene and painkillers, I
set off mid-afternoon, the usual Osterley parking and tube seeing me at
Gloucester Road tube for 5.30. Went to the wrong pub first (!) but met up with
friends Steve and Caz in the Gloucester Arms, also happily bumping
into old punk buddy “Plum”, whom I’d not seen for donkey’s years! Some
catching up and reminiscing of our misspent punk youth later, I left them in
the pub (they had balcony seats so could rock up anytime) and wandered round,
being sent round to Door 6 (the longest queue, of course…) but still in just
before 7 and snagging a decent spot a row or 2 back from the barrier, house
left. Had a phone call from old friend Doug too, and waved at him
in his first tier box seat, in this ridiculously grand and opulent venue. No
proper support, just DJ James Lavelle (who he?) unfortunately playing some
annoying ambient dance. Whiled away the time chatting to a couple of affable
blokes all the way from Norwich; this was truly a tribal gathering!
Floor
space was at a premium and anticipation palpable as showtime neared; finally,
the lights dimmed and The Joke took the stage, the original line-up tonight,
with wild-haired, black boiler-suit clad madman-in-chief Jaz Coleman last on.
The strident, startling synth pulse of “Requiem” kicked in, the place popping
like a cork from a bottle as the mosh surged forward enthusiastically. But
then, there’s always one dickhead…
I
was swept forward by the mosh tide and into the back of a flat-capped guy on
the barriers, whom we shall henceforth refer to as The Twat In The Hat… Rather
like that idiot at the Hold Steady gig in 2018 (gig 1,076), TTITH reacted as if
I’d assaulted him, raped his mum and kicked his cat all at once, turning on me,
wild-eyed and furious and aiming a punch which happily missed… when it happened
again, he leant on the barriers and donkey-kicked at me, luckily missing my bad
knee. I moved to the right to get away from TTITH, as he furiously lashed out
at anyone within punch-throwing distance (not just me, then…). A bouncer
intervened, which calmed matters for a short while, but when the moshpit-catnip
5th number “The Wait” kicked in, TTITH again lashed out at random
folks, at which point an unidentified hand divested him of his hat and threw it
behind into the mosh…! TT (no longer) ITH then went utterly nuclear, upon which
the bouncers finally removed him to cheers from all and sundry.
Meanwhile,
a gig was going on…! The band were “on it”, sounding tight and together; Jaz’s
stentorian roar, wild-eyed manic stare and jerky hand gestures were a feature;
however, from my mosh vantage point, the sound mix was a little muddy,
indistinct and not so stridently loud and powerful as I’d hoped, particularly
on the slower, less synth-based numbers such as an early “Tomorrow’s World” or
“SO36”. No matter, I was still enjoying myself, immersed in a frenzy of furiously
rocking Joke devotees, 16 again in my head, and back at Under 18 Brunel… “The
Wait” was stunning; getting seven shades of shit kicked out of me never seemed
so euphoric! And despite occasionally bordering on the violent and brutal, the
mosh was largely good-natured and thoroughly inclusive, cheers responding to my
occasional between-song shouts of, “everyone OK?”
The
sound actually improved for Joke’s “What’s This For?” run-through, the pounding
beat of “Tension” and tribal/industrial tumbling drums of “Unspeakable” a
feature, Jaz on the lip of the stage, all St. Vitus Dance dramatic shakes, as
the backdrop screen showed old Godzilla movie scenes and apocalyptic footage,
augmenting the tense, claustrophobic mood of the material. The synth-snap of
“Follow The Leaders” was a rampaging singalong, and “This Is Madness” saw a
roaring call and response, before the manic slashing riffery of the cranked up,
amped up maelstrom of “Exit” drew this utterly immersive set to a close.
.JPG)
The
4-song encore also chose from that late 70’s era; the taut, underlying
repetitive funk riff of “Change”, an unfortunately thin sounding yet still
jet-propelled “Are You Receiving?”, then a seethingly angry and embittered “Psyche”,
the final verse couplet of “look at the controller, a nazi with a social
degree” written over 40 years ago yet horrifyingly prescient to these troubled
times, all but referencing the vile likes of Sunak and Braverman by name… The
slogan “Killing Joke Confirm Your Worst Fears” played across the screen as the
band took their bows, Jaz roaring his approval as he left the stage, then I, sweaty and dishevelled, caught my breath and
checked I still had all my limbs, before just missing out on a list (drummer
Paul Ferguson, who’d really put in a shift, returned to the side of the stage
and heard my entreatments for his final list, unmooring it and giving it to the
girl in front of me. Bah!). Met up with Steve and Caz in the lobby for a ride
back to the car and quick blast home, back to the ‘don for a red-eyed 1.20.
Yikes! Battered and sore for a couple of days afterwards, but glad I immersed
myself in the mosh; as I mentioned, this was one to be experienced. So I
did. The Joke’s still on you!
.JPG)
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