Fifty years after releasing “New Rose,” widely regarded as the first punk single to come out of the UK, The Damned showed a jaded New York crowd at Brooklyn Steel that the original punks are still among the best in the business. While they’ve often remained on the outskirts of the mainstream punk scene, they’ve maintained a loyal following of fans who appreciate their DIY roots, willingness to experiment, and refusal to be defined by a single sound or style. Because, if we’re being honest, there’s nothing more punk than having the balls to be unapologetically yourself, whether that means dressing like a gothic vampire while performing punk rock or blending other genres into your sound.
The night started early, which meant the first opener, The Courettes, a garage rock duo from Brazil and Denmark, had a smaller crowd to play to. That didn’t stop them from pouring every ounce of energy into their performance. Singer and guitarist Flavia Couri was an impressive sight in her red ’60s-style dress and two-tone mod boots, jumping, whipping her hair around, and pointing her guitar into the crowd like a machine gun. Her husband, drummer Martin Couri, ferociously drove the beat forward while multitasking on backup vocals and tambourine. Those who were there happily matched their energy, even obliging when Flavia decided to crowd-surf with her guitar toward the end of the set. As a huge fan of garage rock and ’60s power pop, I’ll be sure to catch them the next time they’re in town.
Next up were power pop legends The Flamin’ Groovies, a band whose influence can be heard in many of the punk bands that followed. Fronted by original member Cyril Jordan, playing a very cool clear guitar with glowing green accents, the lineup also featured Tony Sales on drums and co-lead vocals, Sean Fitzimmons and Miki Rogulj on guitar, and Atom Ellis on bass.
By now, the room was packed. It was quite a scene, with much of the audience looking like they were either currently in a band or had been in one at some point in their lives.
The Groovies opened with “Don’t You Lie to Me,” originally written by Tampa Red and later covered on their 1976 album Shake Some Action. They went on to play songs spanning their career, including “Slow Death” and “Teenage Head.” Before playing “Shake Some Action,” Jordan joked that the song was like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe that he couldn’t get rid of. He may be tired of playing it, but it was my first time hearing it live, and since it’s one of my favorites, I was relishing every second.
By the time The Damned took the stage, the sold-out Brooklyn Steel was buzzing with anticipation. They emerged through a dramatic cloud of blue haze, with original drummer Rat Scabies, original guitarist and vocalist Captain Sensible in his signature red-striped shirt and beret, longtime bassist Paul Gray, and keyboardist Monty Oxymoron taking their places. Then came frontman David Vanian, dressed in a suit, cloak, fedora, and black gloves, looking every bit the gothic international man of mystery.
They launched straight into “Street of Dreams” from their 1985 album Phantasmagoria, one of their darker, more gothic pop records. I was immediately in awe of the drama of it all. These guys have been doing this for 50 years, yet they were as fresh and energetic as any of the newer bands I’ve seen — if not more so.
They followed with “Wake the Dead” and then one of my absolute favorites, “History of the World, Pt. 1.” I had mixed feelings about getting that song while I was in the photo pit. Usually, I’m so focused on getting the shots that I can’t fully lose myself in the music. But all I wanted to do was sing and dance along. I settled for some involuntary foot-stomping while getting my shots.
The rest of the set showcased songs from their impressive catalog, with Sensible keeping up the banter and Vanian maintaining the theatrical flair. During “Ignite,” Vanian held his Elvis-style microphone out toward the crowd for an extended round of “oh-oh-ohs.” By the time they played “New Rose” and “Neat Neat Neat,” fans were pogoing and pumping their fists in the air.
The highlight for me, though, came during the encore when they played “Smash It Up, Pt. 1 & 2.”
When I was a kid, I went on a student summer tour of Europe armed with nothing but my Discman and one CD: the Batman Forever soundtrack. For three weeks, I listened to The Offspring’s cover of “Smash It Up,” and it became my favorite song of that summer. It wasn’t until much later that I realized it was originally recorded by The Damned. Even now, those opening guitar riffs take me right back to that pivotal coming-of-age moment.
As the opening solo played, tears of nostalgia started to well up in my eyes. They didn’t last long. When Part 2 kicked in, a massive circle pit formed around me. It was the most energetic the crowd had been all night, and I found myself right in the middle of it, two cameras strapped to me. I scooted toward the edge of the pit, close enough to capture the chaos without getting hurt or damaging my gear. It was an epic ending to a magical show.
Or so I thought.
While browsing the merch table afterward, I heard the band return for a second encore, this time including “White Rabbit” and “Disco Man,” during which Vanian spun a giant disco ball around, scattering sparkling reflections across the room. Fifty years into their career, The Damned had just delivered a set approaching two hours, followed by not one but two encores. I honestly don’t think I’ve been this impressed by a performance since I started writing these reviews.
And that brings me back to what makes The Damned so special.
In the decades since punk first exploded, plenty of bands have been defined by the sound, image, and mythology of the movement. The Damned have never seemed interested in standing still. They’ve worked with independent labels, experimented with different sounds and aesthetics, and continued to evolve without losing the irreverence and independence that made them punk in the first place. While some of their contemporaries burned out or became frozen in the era that made them famous, The Damned kept moving.
To me, that’s the real spirit of punk. It’s not about adhering to a uniform, a sound, or a set of rules. It’s about having the freedom to be whoever the hell you want to be, even when that means defying the expectations of the very scene you helped create.
One of my favorite things about the punk scene is the sense of acceptance. The crowds are a mix of ages, styles, and backgrounds, and there’s room for all of it. You can be punk in a ripped T-shirt, a sharp suit, a red beret, or a vampire costume. You can play three chords as fast and loud as possible, or you can take a detour into gothic pop, psychedelia, or whatever else catches your fancy.
The Damned have spent 50 years proving that punk isn’t a box you have to fit into. It’s the freedom to refuse the box altogether. And judging by the show they put on at Brooklyn Steel, they’re still doing it better than just about anyone.