Rancid

With a combined age of 742 and not looking a day younger, Rancid’s continued appeal surely lies in their durability, their sense of survival and the fact they take all their sartorial inspiration from a postcard of Carnaby Street punks they found on the floor of Gilman Street circa 1985. Probably. They avoid trends by never once being trendy, avoid fashion by dressing in the same shitty threads few forty-something’s would dare to wear.

Rancid know they’re not pretty boys and we know they speak and sing the truth while eating pretty boy emo punks for breakfast. That’s the deal here - which is exactly why Brixton Academy is rammed to the rafters with fans of all ages. And while impish singer Tim Armstrong has been blessed with a singing voice that would make Deirdre Barlow wince or the biggest Coke can-toking crack abuser reach for a sympathetic Strepsil, his ragged and heartfelt rock ‘n’ roll songs are some of the best America has ever produced. Serious. Armstrong writes working class gutter poetry to rival Bukowski, Springsteen or Bob Dylan in poetic value and social commentary. Rancid’s records should come with a free sachet of broken glass and gravel and a dog piss scratch ‘n’ sniff card, so evocative of American’s underbelly are the songs contained within.

Tonight, playing with former Used drummer Branden Steineckert, the Oakland quartet remind everyone just how healthy their back catalogue is, opening with wine-glugging debut single ‘Radio’ and bashing straight into panhandling punk classic ‘Roots Radical’. And on it goes. Bang-bang-bang. Song after song. No let up. From the whiplash anti-consumerist blast of ‘Antennas’ through ‘Maxwell Murder’ (complete with a ridiculously brilliant – or vice versa - bass solo from Matt Freeman) to the crowd-pleasing ska ‘hit’ ‘Time Bomb’ and on to an acoustic encore of ‘Fall Back Down’.

There’s something so committed about this music that it strikes a chord deep inside, each song like an adolescent summer evening spent celebrating life on a street corner, when nothing but music, friendship and a bottle mattered. It’s something so few of today’s newest punk bands are capable of doing, most of whom in ten years' time will have had the MTV hits and retired into the affluent suburbs as millionaires. With their facial tattoos and lifetime devotion to a scene that essentially saved their lives, Rancid have no other option but to do this. Consequently they are one of the few band who won’t let you down, each gig an affirmation of the joy of being alive.