The Damned are just as amateur now as they were in 1976

The Damned are ending their career as they began it, in a cacophony of amateurish noise and chaos, driven by mischief and opportunism. “It’s the gig they said would never happen!” proclaimed 68-year-old bassist Captain Sensible, waving two fingers into the roaring darkness of Hammersmith Apollo.

To be honest, the only people really standing in the way of this inevitable reunion was the band themselves, who broke up twice, and have a history of violent fall outs. But here they all were, apparently ready to bury the hatchet.

When Stiff records rush released the Damned’s debut single New Rose in October 1976, they made punk history, beating The Sex Pistols by five weeks. The Damned were the class jokers of the scene, forgoing political or artistic aspects to revel in the opportunity to create sonic mayhem. The first incarnation was short lived, when guitarist and songwriter Brian James and hyperactive drummer Rat Scabies (Christopher Millar to his mother) quit in 1977.

Singer Dave Vanian soldiered on, with Sensible (aka Raymond Burns) switching to guitar, and the Damned actually enjoyed more commercial success with succeeding line-ups. Their biggest hits (Love Song, Smash It Up, Grimly Fiendish and a top three 1986 remake of Barry Ryan’s Eloise) were thus excluded from this reunion’s proceedings. Essentially, they blasted through their first two albums with all the rackety energy and lack of finesse that a group of veteran professional musicians could muster.

Scabies was at the heart of the Damned’s sound, a drummer who thrashes his kit with the wild recklessness of Keith Moon, never attempting one drum roll where he can squeeze in half a dozen. He must be almost impossible to lock into a groove with, and I am not sure Captain Sensible even tried, peeling off gnarly bass lines that occupied a rhythmic space all of their own.

Hovering in the shadows, 67 year-old Brian James has not aged well, looking as shabby as Worzel Gummidge on a bad day in the corn field, risking tinnitus with a guitar sound that was all treble and fuzz. Goth frontman Dave Vanian stalked the stage, back hunched in black velvet shirt and gloves, looking like Arthur Daley channelling Bela Lugosi at an Elvis impersonator contest. He has become a better singer over the years, but these old songs did not afford much opportunity to show it. Still, he did a good job stirring up the crowd, and laughing at his bandmates.

Let’s be honest, The Damned were always pretty rubbish, but that’s exactly what their audience of diehard sixty-something punks would have wanted, revelling in nostalgia for a music that once asserted there was no future. Grown men who should have known better were moshing, pogoing and crowd surfing down the front, with no concern for hip replacements. If you had been there in 1977, this would have been a lot of fun. If not, you might wonder how anyone can work as a professional musician for their whole lives and still play this badly. There is an art to it I suppose.

The Damned original line-up tour continues until Sat Nov 5. Tickets: officialdamned.com