Smashing Pumpkins

London Wembley Arena

Partially re-formed benign dictatorship totally in form.

When Billy Corgan announced he would be reforming the classic Smashing Pumpkins lineup to tour an early albums-only set, he stirred a real buzz that now permeates the Wembley air.

The problem is, Corgan’s always sucked at sharing his spotlight. Despite having co-founding guitarist James Iha and drummer Jimmy Chamberlin (original bassist D’arcy Wretzky is conspicuous by her absence) at his side for the first time since 2000, he initially leaves them in the wings, stepping onstage to bask in the crowd’s adoration alone.

The ego has landed, but such hubris is forgiveable when it’s driving such a visually staggering and magically nostalgic experience. When the band finally join him and reach full throttle, they sound like something from another planet; a perfect storm of shimmering grunge and technicolour angst. The visceral roar of Cherub Rock, a snarling Bullet With Butterfly Wings, the joyous orchestral swell of Tonight, Tonight and Mayonaise’s unrelenting tenderness: they all sound glorious. Naturally, though, Corgan’s extraterrestrial vision is allowed to run amok – at one point he’s dancing hypnotically in a silver rainmac, later broadcasting himself reading a pretentious piece of prose on the huge screens. Like everything he does, it’s a ridiculously self-indulgent affair but not even pomp and sprawl can dim tonight’s sonic glow.