RDS Dublin: Linkin Park, The Darkness

This year, it’s fair to say that, in terms of outdoor rock reverie, Irish audiences have been well and truly spoiled, what with Slane and Witnness, and Springsteen playing here just a few weeks ago, and now Metallica and Linkin Park providingthe angel dust-laced icing on this summer’s rock cake.
Some fans were slightly worried about how The Darkness were going to fare against a crowd of hardcore metal snobs, and one would contend that crowd were either stunned into confusion or amusement as the reception bestowed on them was warmer than anyone could have anticipated. As though the RDS crowd has been magically transported back to Donnington in the mid-80’s, The Darkness’ set encapsulates the very best of Guns’N’Roses, Queen, Whitesnake and Def Leppard. Singer Justin Hawkins, the bastard lovechild of Paul Stanley and Robert Plant, struts and preens about the stage bedecked in a lurid leopard-print leotard as though he was born to sing and howl his over-constricted balls off. The Darkness have been regarded with some suspicion, as though they are a Spinal Tap-like, impeccably-crafted stadium rock pastiche, with the result that some audiences are holding back as they wait for the punchline of the joke. They needn’t bother…The Darkness is more than a rock opera/cabaret act, and indeed have much more to offer than most of either their stadium throwbacks or their contemporaries. Their infectious rawk, encapsulated in their hits ‘Get Your Hands Off My Woman’ and ‘Growing On Me’ are perfect fare for this energetic and sunny afternoon, their youthful exuberance and unabashed displays of testosterone and machismo a true joy to behold. It’s easy to see why their star is in the ascendant.
Linkin Park, meanwhile, have caught their baggy trousered arses on the spiky end of said metal puritanism. There has always been an uneasy tension between old and nu metal, and today there is evidence to suggest that the largely Metalli-centric crowd are making their presence felt. Linkin Park themselves concede that this is indeed Metallica’s day, but not before putting in a supremely game performance. With the heavy production and epic choruses on ‘Meteora’ and ‘Hybrid Theory’, they have managed to finely articulate the angst, the frustration and the burgeoning passions of middle-class teenagers everywhere. Vocalist Chester Bennington and rapper Mike Shinoda’s performances are intense, white-knuckled, hunched at times, and they deliver a set peppered with crowd-pleasing singles. Their video-centric music has always been loaded with visual richness and this afternoon, for some strange reason, the hovering clouds above the RDS seem even more auspicious than usual.
While the nu-metal acts like Linkin Park, Papa Roach and Korn have been busy trying to reach the benchmark that Metallica created, the elder statesmen themselves have been slavishly working behind the scenes creating St. Anger, an arsenal of an album loaded with unrepentant, bloodied fists to the ears. Rarely has a band delivered such consistently ground-breaking work that is both gritty and full-bodied, and tonight their performance is no exception. Having replaced Jason Newstead, new bassist Robert Trujillo is right at home on this stage, while James Hetfield [pictured right, by Liam Sweeney], Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammet are seasoned pros, giants whose expansive choruses push towards the sky. To my mind, there are various types of Metallica fans; the newbies who have recently tired of Limp Bizkit, the yuppies who welcomed the company of ‘Master Of Puppets’ during their difficult adolescent years but now spend their salaries on Royksopp albums, and the die-hard fans whose love of Metallica has been unflinching and consistent through the years, refusing to be swayed by fad or trend. Tonight is definitely their night, and the set is a run through of old favourites as well as a showcase for epics the world has yet to love. The night is not without its wondrous rock clichés, most notably the use of fire explosions and fireworks during ‘Enter Sandman’ and the much-lamented sea of lighters during ‘Nothing Else Matters’. With or without the pyrotechnics, the evening is nothing short of truly incendiary.
Hmmm…it almost wants to make one dig out all those old Metallica albums again. Or perhaps download everything off the Internet…