Expectation is in the air. Killing Joke have been on tour, laying waste to the UK in their own inimitable style, but it’s all been leading up to this show. Outside the Hammersmith Apollo, the sun is shining, and it feels like any other day. But to those inside, penned in and pent up, this is not only the last day of the tour, but it’s also being filmed for a future release. Which is not to say that the band ever give anything less than their all when on stage, but still, the cameras add a certain frisson to the experience; as does the apocalyptic vibe conjured by the combined weight of a post-pandemic cost-of-living crisis and Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine – two factors that cannot help but summon up memories of the Cold War-poisoned, Thatcher-era that spawned the band in the first place.
Taking the stage early, and with the Apollo still filling up, The Imbeciles deal in a surprisingly varied mix of styles, wrapped up in familiar rock ‘n’ roll trappings. With the hedonism of the The Stooges as the touchstone, the band rock out convincingly throughout their short set, yet scratch beneath the surface and elements as diverse as Primal Scream and The Eels raise their heads and peer into the void. It’s not About You, for example, could just as easily have emerged from the guitars of 3CR as Primal Scream, while climactic song Let’s Go! is a short fiery blast that sounds likes Cooper Temple Clause covering Ramones. It’s a rousing opening set and it’s a shame that it’s over before most people have had a chance to spill their first beer.
Up next, Brix Smith’s band features two former My Bloody Valentiners – Deb George on bass and Jen Marco on keys / guitar – as well as a pair of musicians from Deux Furieuses. With Brix’s debut album, The Valley Of Souls, having been produced by Youth, the Killing Joke connection is clear, and the band (only joining the tour for this night) are clearly out to prove themselves in front of one of the most dedicated audiences in the UK. Not that Brix is new to the game. Named for The Clash, and having cut her teeth as The Fall’s guitarist, Brix has had a remarkable and varied career, auditioning for Hole and moonlighting as a fashion expert. It is on stage, however, that Brix is in her element. Pulling rock poses as her band tears through a set of songs from the upcoming album, she seems genuinely delighted to be here, and speaks often of her experiences with Youth.
Hitting hard with opening numbers Aphrodite and Fast Net – the former an appropriately addictive number that makes you want to sing, even having never heard the track before; the latter built around a rolling tom assault that reverberates around the venue – Brix throws shapes for the packed photographer’s pit. Dressed in leather ‘n’ denim, she looks like Debbie Harry channelling Patti Smith and sings like Caroline Finch channelling Donita Sparks. Keyboards add a touch of depth to Black Rain, but for most in the audience (unfortunately unfamiliar with the original songs), it’s a searing cover of The Fall’s Totally Wired that seals the deal. Touchingly dedicated to the irascible Mark E. Smith and performed with conviction, it sees Brix hark back to her past, without undermining the power of the present. The only slight misstep is, having expended so much energy, Black Butterfly feels a slightly underwhelming closer, but overall it’s a powerful performance from a band who will become a great deal more visible when debut album Valley Of The Dolls hits the racks.
With the support acts having warmed up the seething throng of gatherers, it’s time for Killing Joke to take the stage. A short change over and everything is ready, the eerie looped intro eliciting cheers long before the band appear. When they do stroll calmly on, it provides an interesting juxtaposition to the chaos they promptly unleash, Big Paul’s precision tooled assault underpinning the angular shards of Geordie’s guitar on opening number Love Like Blood. Somewhere amidst it all, Youth, zen-like and lost in a reverie, unleashes a bass sound that tenderises the innards, all of which serves to provide the backing for Jaz’s otherworldly exhortations. Few frontmen can hold the attention like Jaz. He dances and jerks to the music, periodically fixing the audience with a hypnotic stare, and the audience erupts. With the stage starkly, yet dramatically lit, the band allow no quarter, and we’re straight into Wardance, an invocation that sees the audience move as one. The packed, seething pit continues to heave as Jaz declares I Am The Virus, while the phased synths of Requiem sound utterly huge. The audience, of course, join in throughout, but it’s on requiem, where that single high note of “the” sees the entire venue united as one.
With Jaz only briefly speaking to the audience, the band are on particularly menacing form, especially with the sinister, mid-tempo grind of Money Is Not Our God. The band even hark all the way back to their auspicious 1979 debut EP, airing an electronically enhanced Turn To Red, which sees the keyboards gain greater prominence in the mix as trance and rock thrillingly collide. All of Jaz’s personal paranoia is laid bare on a coruscating Mathematics Of Chaos, a showstopper if it hadn’t been followed by a blisteringly intense The Death and Resurrection Show from the band’s 2003 self-titled album. It’s here that I recall Jaz’s frequent assertion that Killing Joke are hard, as the percussion starts to break down the audience’s sense of time and space. We remain with that album for the prophetic Total Invasion and an equally vital Loose Cannon, before the band bring the primary set to a close with knock-out blows The Wait and Pssyche.
With the audience edging close to exhaustion, thanks to the formation of a heaving pit that ran throughout the main set, the band return for an encore that features a coruscating The Pandys Are Coming, before bringing the house down with the reverberating nightmare of Pandemonium’s title track.
What more is there to be said about Killing Joke? One of the UK’s most enduring bands, they need little in the way of visual distraction because their music, not to mention Jaz’s intense stage presence, does all the talking. Intelligent, articulate and endlessly exciting, a Killing Joke show is much more than just another gig – it’s an event, a ritual shared between audience and band and it is something that you will never ever forget.
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