THE DAMNED
WHO’D have thought it was 40 years ago that the Sex Pistols offended the nation on tea time telly and The Damned unleashed their debut album Damned Damned Damned, thus igniting the volcanic eruption of snot, pus and bile that was punk rock in late Seventies Britain?
Emerging on stage at sold out Ocean Rooms to the pompous strains of ELP’s Fanfare For the Common Man, Captain Sensible grabs the mic and implores: “This was the sort of stuff that was it the charts when we started. Someone turn this *** off!” before hurtling headfirst into a ferocious Neat Neat Neat, the album’s opening track.
The good Captain, sporting his trademark red beret and Gibson SG, Dennis the Menace’s t-shirt and Rupert the Bear’s tartan trews, leads us on a gob-soaked pogo down phlegm-ory lane as he and vampyric singer Dave Vanian and their red-hot band perform the debut album in its entirety, with the notable exception of the 59 seconds of Stab Yor Back, written by original drummer Rat Scabies.
Just over 30 minutes long, the album contained enough energy to inspire a nation of spotty oiks (me included) to form bands back in 1976, and it sounds just as fresh, vital and exciting today.
Vanian, who clearly has entered into some sort of Faustian pact, looks as drop-dead dangerous as ever, prowling and howling around the stage like a shadow armed with a vintage microphone.
“I’m not a vampire,” he tells us. “I’m a taxi driver from South Africa.”
There are no keyboards on their debut album, so it was hilarious to see Sensible berating Monty Oxymoron, who spent the first half-hour gurning and waving: “ Monty, you lazy ******!”
However, the keys ace came into his own with an epic 90-minute romp through their prog, goth and psychedelic back catalogue, including their take on White Rabbit.
A great night for everyone there, none more than the beaming lad of about 13 years old being carried aloft on his pogoing dad’s shoulders in the mosh pit.
Punk’s not dead, it’s being passed to a new generation.
NICK HORTON
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