Celebrating forty years of unhinged artistic endeavour, Killing Joke’s Laugh at your peril tour is a terse reminder that these sonic adventurers not only have a powerful body of work behind them, but that they also have maintained their quality control and their integrity as they’ve aged, their most recent work (2015’s Pylon) as powerful an album as any that the band has released over their four decades. With a quasi-cult following (something that Jaz plays up to with his preacher-like demeanour), Killing Joke remain hugely influential, not least because their work is built upon a base of fundamental integrity. Slowly, the dark, cavernous interior of Nottingham’s Rock City begins to fill, reaching saturation point during Turbowolf’s short set, leaving us to wonder if there’ll be much left after the Joke have bought their seismic performance to the stage.
Full of energy and bristling confidence, Turbowolf take to the stage with the light of battle in their eyes, perhaps sensing the partisan nature of the crowd. With Rock City feeling strangely empty at the outset, by the time Turbowolf bring their blistering set to an end the room has filled considerably and the crowd seem largely appreciative of the band’s heroic efforts in the name of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s an incongruous pairing to be sure, but Turbowolf certainly don’t lack heart and the energy they expend as they blast through a short set that includes tracks such as cheap magic (ferocious riffs; smart tempo shifts) and ancient snake (which sees the vocals buried under the guitars) is tough to resist. Solid gold arguably marks the set highlight, and the band leave a fair few converts to their cause in their wake.
Whilst Turbowolf turned in a tight performance in front of a notoriously unforgiving crowd, there’s only one band that anyone’s really waiting for. As the house lights dim the roar of the now sardine-esque crowd is deafening. As the band glide on stage, Jaz Coleman still looking like an apocalyptic preacher, it’s hard to reconcile the fact that a band some forty years into its career is still making this much noise. The first night of a UK tour celebrating four decades of Killing Joke was always going to be special, and so it transpires. The band have always had an affinity with Nottingham and the crowd are equally vocal in their support so, when the Joke launch into a potent Unspeakable, it’s notable for featuring a considerable vocal contribution from the crowd. No less brutal is the industrial horror of European super state, although the track pales in comparison to a rampant Autonomous zone, which is delivered (once Jaz remembers what song they’re supposed to be playing) with such unhinged venom that it leaves the audience reeling. It paves the way nicely for the rapturously received Eighties, and from there the band unleash classic after classic. The painfully prescient New Cold War is followed by an astonishing Requiem, as potent today as the day it was penned, whilst Follow the leaders takes a menacing look at politicians in all their horrific duplicity. A ferocious Butcher, all pummelling bass and thunderous drums, sees the crowd reduced to a catatonic state, Jaz exerting a pull over the assembled throng that is tantamount to hypnotism.
And still the band plough on, Jaz marching frantically across the carpet covering the middle of the stage whilst Youth forgets himself so far as to bang the ever-present visor from his head. A tough version of Asteroid sees the entire audience lending a helping hand on vocals, and a particularly virulent version of The wait reclaims the track form Metallica and sends it skittering out into the night like some killer robot on an unstoppable mission. Finally, in a welter of feedback, the Joke bring the set to a cacophonous close with Pssyche, an industrial-strength finale that truly does threaten the foundations of the hallowed Rock City.
Of course, so vocal a crowd is a dangerous thing to leave un-sated and so, with a riot on the cards in the absence of an encore, Killing Joke return for a lap of honour featuring four more songs. As the familiar strains of Love like blood send the crowd into a frenzy, you do start to wonder just how much energy the band can possibly have in reserve before they go one step further with the death and resurrection show. However, it’s the final two songs – the aptly titled wardance and a dizzying Pandemonium that seal the deal. The band have plans to return (or at least they don’t have plans not to) but, as Jaz reminds us, the world is an unstable, scary place these days and who knows what the next year holds. For now, though, we can simply be grateful that Killing Joke still care enough to make the trek.
A communal experience as much as a gig, there’s a good reason why Killing Joke concerts are named gatherings and, as you stand amidst a disparate group of people (from mohawk-sporting punks to black clad metallers), all chanting with a fervour bordering on mania, you realise the unique power of this band. Jaz is fond of saying in interviews that he’ll continue in the band as long as he has breath in his body and, witnessing the transcendental power that his music holds over a packed Rock City, it’s easy to see why. The Joke may not be funny, but it’s far from over and long may it run.
