A ribcage-rattling homecoming for this glorious powerhouse of rock
Skunk Anansie Brixton Academy, London SW9
‘Of all the places we love to play in the world, this is the best,” announced Skunk Anansie’s frontwoman Skin to the packed house at Brixton Academy. You might think that most performers say that to all the venues on tour, but Skin’s sentiment felt warmly genuine: the singermusician (aka Deborah Anne Dyer) grew up with her Jamaican family in this south-london neighbourhood, and it lent a homecoming spirit to the night.
Skunk Anansie have, of course, been “here” before. In the midnineties, they tore into the music industry, harnessing the energy of the Britrock scene while offering an antidote to its bloated blokeyness: here was a multiracial band with satisfyingly punchy tunes and political riffs, led by a powerful black queer woman. They went massive with global hits including Hedonism and
Secretly, but they were also widely mocked in a mainstream era that was pretty reactionary (and, in hindsight, easily intimidated).
The band seemed to fade from public consciousness when they took a break between then and their fourth album Wonderlustre (2010), and many people have since forgotten that it was Skin, not Beyoncé, who became Glastonbury’s first black female headliner, when Skunk Anansie helmed the festival’s Pyramid Stage in 1999. Saturday night’s London date, part of a European tour marking their 25th anniversary, proved that they were really a force reawakened, and that 52-year-old Skin – still shavenheaded and mighty-lunged, rocking an
avant-garde chic (her outfit for opening number Charlie Big Potato resembled a space-age pom-pom) – has aged infinitely better than any Britrock “lad”.
There was a reassuringly old-school air in a venue that has barely changed in decades, but Skunk Anansie played with gloriously full-blooded force – so much so, that I resorted to ear protection a few numbers in. (I’ve reached the age where gig-related deafness is no longer a badge of honour.) Nothing could dampen the ribcage-rattling impact, though, and Skin’s agile, exhilarating energy felt infectious. She remains a phenomenal vocal talent, and she soared through classics including I Can Dream while diving into the delighted, diverse crowd: from teens to seasoned punks, all genders and races, the most joyously aggro-free mosh pit I have ever experienced.
While Skin was an utterly undeniable powerhouse, credit was also due to the band’s collective talent, including Cass Lewis’s brilliant, surging basslines in numbers such as Twisted (Everyday Hurts). The spiky new numbers, including the latest single What You Do For Love, held up well alongside hyper-ballads such as Weak.
When Skin got political, it felt tender rather than stilted – Skunk Anansie’s fury has never been directionless, and their 1995 debut single Little Baby Swastikkka felt eerily resonant in 2019. There were abundant highlights, and two encores: at one point, Skin dedicated a cover of Paul Weller’s You Do Something To Me to her girlfriend, before the Modfather himself strolled on stage for a duet. Most memorably, there was the image of Skin singing as the crowd carried her aloft: a crowd-surfing queen, reclaiming her crown.