Review: Thunder, Colston Hall

Thunder could be forgiven for wondering where they went right. The old script dictates that when record company apron strings are snipped, bands plod along in denial to ever diminishing returns until finally knocking it on the head in ignominy. Thunder’s audience, by contrast, just won’t let them go. Indeed, it seems to be getting bigger. Despite splitting up twice and writing the mandatory Old Rocker Lament about the good old days of vinyl and Proper Music (When the Music Played, performed tonight), the Londoners have managed to make the new music industry economics work very well for themselves. Here they are in 2016 with a top ten album, a chart-topping music DVD and a Colston Hall show that’s been sold out for months. Not only are they as popular now as they’ve ever been in their 26-year career, but you can be sure they’re earning a lot more loot than when they had big hair, expensive videos and were signed to EMI.

First, though, here’s Terrorvision. This reviewer must confess to never having understood their appeal. In the pantheon of chart-bothering ’90s purveyors of punk/pop/metal with gobby northern frontmen, they rank a very poor second to The Wildhearts. But they’ve got plenty of fans and deliver a crowd-pleasing set that serves as a reminder of just how many hits they enjoyed back in the day, from My House to Oblivion and, inevitably, Alice, What’s the Matter? Unlike the headliners, Terrorvision offer something of a pure nostalgia show, but you can’t fault Tony Wright’s commitment. He remains a high-kicking, livewire frontman, who’s even moved to tear off his shirt as he leaps about the stage during D’ya Wanna Go Faster? Then he thinks better of it and puts on another shirt.

Thunder kick off with the title track of nostalgia-inflected new album Wonder Days, which revisits the ’70s schooldays of founders and lifelong chums Danny Bowes and Luke Morley (fact fans may wish to note that, like Fiona Bruce and Rafe Spall, they’re alumni of Haberdashers’ Aske’s grammar school). Their superior brand of muscular heavy rock is the kind of thing that generally lends itself to Coverdale-esque macho crotch-thrusting. But Bowes couldn’t be more different. His cheeky chappie persona, complete with vigorous dad dancing, is more like a slightly embarrassing uncle determined to get the party started with a jolly singalong. The difference, of course, is that incredible voice, which remains astonishingly unravaged by the passage of time. “You’re not helping,” he chides us gently for whooping during a scintillating Like a Satellite. “I’m bearing my soul here.” Frankly, it should have been a criminal offence for him to retire from performing, however temporarily.

The boisterous crowd lap up every minute, happily engaging with each and every ludicrous audience participation gambit. Oldies Backstreet Symphony and Love Walked In sound just as good as they did when Thunder played their first Bristol show to 150 people at the Bierkeller back in 1989. But the bulk of their set is drawn from recent albums, including more than half of Wonder Days (though not, disappointingly, the splendid Broken).

Chief songwriter Morley remains a tasteful, unflashy guitarist, while drummer Harry James is a tad subdued by his usual standards (no showboating from behind the kit tonight) despite regular chanting of his name by more refreshed punters. Having survived a brush with cancer, multi-instrumentalist Ben Matthews demonstrates how indispensable he is to Thunder’s sound, contributing guitar, keyboards and even cowbell on the actionably Stonesy I Love You More Than Rock’n’Roll.

They wrap it up, as usual, with an epic Dirty Love, distended almost to breaking point as Bowes milks every last drop of applause. Strong rumour has it that Thunder are shortly to be announced as headliners of a certain almost-local summer festival, and on this form you really wouldn’t want to miss them.

All pix by Mike Evans