Photos and review by Nicole Sepulveda
@__nik__pics

The Darkness have always been a band of gleeful contradiction—self-aware glam theatrics mixed with genuine, airtight musicianship—and their show at the Fillmore on November 13 proved they’re still masters of that balance. If anything, they’ve only doubled down. For a band called The Darkness, the first surprise of the night was how bright things were. The lighting design was unbelievably elaborate, bursting in sync with every beat, riff, and falsetto shriek. It wasn’t just illumination; it was choreography.

Justin Hawkins set the tone early with a handstand after the third song—because of course he did—and by the time “Barbarian” hit, the shirt was gone and the place was fully warmed up. But theatrics alone don’t carry a show; musicianship does. And the band flexed theirs with a twist: drummer Rufus Taylor (yes, son of Queen’s Roger Taylor) stepped out front to sing “My Only,” while guitarist Dan Hawkins jumped behind the kit. It was a surprising and seamless lineup shuffle that drew huge cheers.

Justin’s channeling of Freddie Mercury was unmistakable—not imitation, but reverence with style. He tossed out vocal runs for the crowd to echo, and the Fillmore responded shockingly well. Hearing hundreds of people climb their way up his stratospheric five-octave range attempts was equal parts impressive and hilarious, but undeniably joyful.

One of the most charming moments was when Justin tossed in a spontaneous snippet of “The Power of Love” as a lead-in to “The Longest Kiss,” turning the transition into a glam-rock love letter. He invited the crowd to take over the chorus, and they rose to the challenge with volume to spare.

But the most memorable moment came at the end of the set. Just as they launched into their biggest hit, Justin stopped the band cold. He ordered the crowd to put their phones away—all of them—before restarting the chorus. The room obeyed, and what followed was a rare, collective moment of pure analog energy. No screens. Just bodies jumping, voices cracking, and everyone fully locked in.

The encore took the chaos up a notch. Justin returned wearing short jogging shorts and a loose T-shirt, and managed to lose his mic pack mid-jumping spree. As the tech struggled to reattach it, guitarist Dan Hawkins and bassist Frankie Poullain closed in on him, sandwiching him in an absurd glam-rock hug while Justin kept right on singing. By the finale, he had ditched the earplugs altogether, choosing freedom of movement over technical precision—and honestly, it suited him.

The Darkness didn’t just play the Fillmore; they owned it. It was sweaty, luminous, ridiculous, and musically razor-sharp—a perfect storm of glam exuberance and rock-and-roll sincerity. If this tour is rolling through your city, bring your voice, ditch your phone, and expect to leave glowing. For all their latest news and info, check out The Darkness and @thedarkness.