Archer Music Hall felt supercharged before a note rang out—shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor, balcony leaning forward, that low murmur that says everyone knows they’re about to see a show. By the time the house mix rolled up and the room went dark, it already felt like the fuse was lit.
Mark Daly opened and treated the room like his name was already on the marquee. Gritty Irish rasp up front, tight band behind him, songs built on big choruses and clean down-the-middle rock punch. He kept the pace high—no dead air, no filler—and won the crowd the honest way: hooks first, then heart. Mid-set he slipped into a slow-burner that let the vocal breathe, then kicked back to overdrive and had phones in the air by the last refrain. For an opener, it was exactly the tone-setter the night needed.
Then The Darkness hit, and the temperature jumped ten degrees. Sequins, smirks, and riffs the size of billboards—glam-rock theater delivered with pub-band muscle. The early run leaned hard on Permission to Land energy, those razor-bright guitars and drum fills that feel like drumline fireworks. Justin Hawkins came out singing like a siren and working the room like a stand-up: split kicks, guitar between the knees, cheeky asides that somehow never slowed the momentum. Dan Hawkins’ Les Paul tone sliced perfectly through the mix, Frankie Poullain strutted the low end with a well-timed cowbell cameo, and Rufus Taylor drove everything like a sports car—tight, loud, and still elastic enough to let the songs breathe.
“Growing on Me” and “Get Your Hands Off My Woman” landed as communal shout-alongs—the latter turning into a hilarious call-and-response that tested the room’s collective inside voice (it failed gloriously). “Love Is Only a Feeling” shimmered under a wash of lights, Justin leaning into that elastic falsetto while Dan painted widescreen melodies around him.
What makes The Darkness so good live isn’t just the jokes or the gymnastics; it’s how dialed-in the band is under the sparkle. Riffs land in the sternum. Harmonies sit right on the edge of too-perfect and still feel dangerous. The in-between chatter is pure theater, but the playing never drops out of the red.
The closing stretch was everything people came to hear. “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” turned Archer into a single, very loud choir—hands up, voices higher, that last chorus hitting like a victory lap. The encore stretched into a swaggering “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” complete with a long, grinning solo section and one more round of crowd-conducting before a final, ringing chord.
No surprise the smiles lingered in the lobby. Mark Daly showed up hungry and left with new fans; The Darkness proved (again) that very few bands can make rock feel this fun, this tight, and this alive in a room this intimate. Archer Music Hall got the full treatment, and everyone inside walked out a little taller, a little hoarser, and completely convinced.
The Darkness Tour
