Palaye Royale
London Shepherd’s Bush Empire
Next-generation rock’n’roll mania, courtesy of Las Vegas pin-ups.
It’s a teenage rampage down on the dancefloor of this sold-out show. Several hundred bodies, few of them old enough to buy cigarettes, are losing themselves as one to the five glam-goth Jack Skellingtons on stage in front of them.
Las Vegas’s Palaye Royale are in danger of becoming a phenomenon, and one that’s happening without the permission of what’s left of the music press. Just like nitrous oxide and TikTok, they’re a generational line in the sand – the only adults in the venue are the ones giving their kids a ride home after the show.
The song they play as an intro – My Chemical Romance’s Blood, greeted by a cheer louder than most bands get for their encore – signposts Palaye Royale’s intentions. Fucking With My Head and Death Dance are spidery, emo-tinged anthems, heavy on the eyelinered dramatics. But the music plays second fiddle to the showmanship, whether that’s fantastically named singer Remington Leith singing the ballad Ma Cherie from the centre of the audience, or his brother, even more fantastically named guitarist Sebastian Danzig, teetering on his raised monitors throughout like a cross between Johnny Thunders and Bambi.
They lack properly killer anthems, but that matters zilch to the adoring audience. Nor should it. Every generation gets to chose their own heroes. And on this showing, Palaye Royale are doing that job fabulously.