Originally scheduled for last December, this show has gone through a number of proscriptive homes before finally settling here at the Academy. Alongside date and geographical location, the undercard has also going through a number of iterations. Those still expecting Crobot and Blue Pills are left equally disappointed and surprised by the appearance of the Black Spiders. Though to be honest they shouldn't be too taken aback as Sheffield's finest have played Mutely to Airbourne’s Dick Dastardly on numerous occasions. They share a common DNA in the fact that they both produce simple, filthy rock 'n' roll. Whilst the vast majority of the Academy's occupants are not familiar with the finer details of the Black Spiders back catalogue, they do indeed know how these tracks are meant to sound and you can tell from opener ‘Death Comes Creepin’ onwards that they are reassured they are safe hands.

There is a wonderful Northern irreverence to the Black Spiders on-stage presence. ‘Stay Down’ is dispensed with early doors, along with the requisite request for the audience to chant "Fuck you Black Spiders”. This moment of heartfelt self-deprecation wins over any remaining floating voters, and from then onwards the crowd is putty in their hands. Pete unapologetically proclaims that they are breaking GDPR requirements by filming the audience for their upcoming music video, though to be honest neither band nor audience seem to be particularly bothered. It's Saturday night and the Black Spiders fit perfectly into the burgeoning good-time party vibe and therefore nobody is going to take to heart any well-intentioned data breach.

The beauty of the Black Spiders is that they are timeless. Material from their recent record "Can't Die, Won’t Die” slots in seamlessly with the stuff from the decade-old “Sons of the North” (their less well-regarded sophomore effort “This Savage Land” is quite callously ignored this evening). It's simple but strident, full of striking choruses and dirty driving riffs. They are acutely aware that their job is to pass the time whilst we wait for Airbourne and they take great delight at pointing this out on numerous occasions. However, even if they are the appetiser as opposed to the main course, they still ensure that the consumption is as pleasurable as possible. Fuelled by a combination of northern dry wit and faux-arrogance, this is by far the most fun you can have whilst you wait for four Aussies to show up.

In this current world of uncertainty and adversity, Airbourne are exactly the band that we need. During the great depression of the 1930s, Hollywood thrived because it provided celluloid escapism. In the equally bleak twenty-twenties, feel-good acts such as Airbourne are providing exactly the same service. Yes, they may well be devoid of any level of originality (let's be honest they are an AC/DC cover act playing their own compositions) but they are unapologetically great fun. From the first track to the last, they are a high-tempo octane explosion of pulsating party vibes. No matter how cynical and jaded you are you cannot help but be swept along by their euphoric blend of rock 'n' roll. 

The audience needs little persuasion to be swept along by the tsunami of audio pleasure. From the moment that Joel O’Keeffe’s opening guitar riffs ring out in the darkness, they are putty in his hand. He is the quintessential lad next door front man. His heartfelt ode to Lemmy before ‘It’s all for Rock N’ Roll’ sums it up beautifully.  He is a fan first and a musician second. He is not on some egotistical power trip, he is as devoted to rock 'n' roll as we are, it is just that he got lucky. Joel’s down-to-earth demeanour is wonderfully refreshing. He calls out neighbouring watering hole “Big Hands” as part of a meandering intro to ‘Girls in Black’ and whilst lobbing beer into the crowd he bemoans the state of his beloved Aussie cricket team. 

However, there are two points where his connection with the crowd goes beyond the usual call-and-response relationship and becomes reciprocal and symbiotic. During the aforementioned ‘Girls in Black’, he hops on the shoulders of an accommodating roadie and heads out to the crowd. But this is no messianic moment, Joel is one of us and in many ways feels more comfortable out with us than he feels standing on a pedestal before us. The other point of real connection is during a brutally honest prologue to ‘Bottom of the Well’. When he talks about hard times it is obvious that he speaks from bitter experience. What could have come across as trite and condescending, lands brilliantly. A brutally honest call to arms to keep going even when hope is in short supply that speaks to each and every person in the building.

But isn't just about Joel’s hyper-affable bloke down-the-pub persona. Airborne know how to write songs. They are not going to win any awards for inventiveness or uniqueness, but they are still beautifully sculpted slices of 12-bar boogie. Groove-laden chunks of danceable rock, designed to make your arse move and your soul swell. In a world crying out for jollity, it feels both cathartic and rejuvenating to be able to let these dollops of aural happiness wash over you.

Whilst it's probably true that Joel sweet-talks every audience he stands up in front of, there does seem to be something special happening tonight. He reveals that the lock-up that their gear resides in between tours is based right here in Manchester and that two members of their crew are proud Mancunians. With their success on our shores greatly outweighing what they have achieved back in Oz, it's obvious that they see the UK as a home from home. As a sly thank-you present, they detour from the set list to slide in a rampant ‘Raise The Flag’ before they crash into a furious finale of ‘Runnin’ Wild’.

For over 90 minutes they provide an opulent diversion from the mundanity of real life. Simple but spectacular, this is the pure essence of rock 'n' roll. Foot tapping, heart racing, smile-making entertainment. Nobody cared that we had heard it all before because what is important is that we are hearing it now, at the moment when we need it the most. It may only be rock 'n' roll but for a short moment in time, it makes the world a far far better place.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Airbourne, Black Spiders