There are comebacks, and then there are resurrections. For punk devotees, the return of The Saints ’73–’78 — the latest live incarnation of the legendary Brisbane outfit — firmly belonged in the latter category. With original members Ed Kuepper and Ivor Hay at the helm, and an inspired line-up completed by Mick Harvey, Mark Arm, Peter Oxley, and a three-piece brass section led by Terry Edwards, the Electric Ballroom felt less like a gig and more like a communal rite of appreciation for one of punk’s most quietly revolutionary bands.
-
The Saints @ Electric ballroom (Peter McDonnell)
Kicking off the night were Chimers, the Wollongong duo of Padraic Skehan and Binx, who wasted no time blasting the room awake. Their opening salvo set the tone: splintering guitar attacks, taut, piston-like drums, and a snarling urgency that felt both raw and remarkably controlled. Tracks like Generator flexed serious muscle, Padraic’s vocals tearing through the noise with visceral conviction. On Your Insane, the duo channelled that intensity into something almost ritualistic — power tamed and sharpened into a fevered, rhythmic assault.
The pair’s chemistry was magnetic, summoning Shellac-like angularity and a humidity of sound that belied their two-piece configuration. They were visibly thrilled to be touring with The Saints ’73–’78, and the crowd matched that enthusiasm — particularly when members of The Saints’ brass section joined them to swell the joyful stomp of People Listen (To The Radio). Chimers’ final track, 3AM, sealed the deal with roars of appreciation from an already buzzing room.
By the time The Saints strode onstage, the Electric Ballroom was coiled with anticipation. Swing for the Crime confirmed immediately what many had hoped: Ed Kuepper was in exceptional form. His guitar tone was rich, deliberate, almost regal in its slight reined-in pacing — a master reclaiming his own history. Mark Arm, meanwhile, delivered No Time with a commanding, brooding intensity, locking eyes with the crowd as the brass section unfurled a chaotic, free-jazz undercurrent.
Then came the detonation. This Perfect Day, stripped of brass, erupted in snarling Stooges-esque fury, with Kuepper and Harvey’s guitars interlocking like serrated gears. Lost & Found found Ivor Hay pounding through the track with astonishing drive, Peter Oxley’s bass punching each phrase into muscular definition.
The return of the brass for Memories Are Made Of This coloured the song with hallucinogenic warmth, Kuepper’s spiralling guitar shapes curling around Arm’s controlled, deliberate delivery. Private Affair showcased playful interplay between saxophones and chiming guitar lines, while Brisbane (Security City) — introduced by Kuepper with a pointed comment about its persistent lyrical relevance — felt chillingly current.
The Prisoner marked the first moment Mick Harvey shifted to keyboards, adding a bluesy, ghostly backdrop to Oxley’s creeping bass. The Chameleon slinked and snapped, delivered with a tightness that felt borderline telepathic. No, Your Product tore the place open with glorious, chaotic swagger.
A highlight came when special guest Troy Purnell bounded onstage, harmonica blazing, for a runaway-train version of Run Down. Messin’ With The Kid hit an emotional nerve, the brass turning memory into momentum, while (I’m) Stranded triggered perhaps the loudest sing-along of the night. Know Your Product, dark and rumbling, closed the main set with commanding finality.
The band returned swiftly, launching into (I’m) Misunderstood, a beautifully self-aware choice for a group once critically overlooked but now widely hailed as pioneers. All Times Through Paradise followed with a celebratory energy, Harvey and Kuepper’s guitars sparking off each other in luminous dialogue. Demolition Girl, the only encore without brass, turned into a collective yell-along — the crowd practically a fourth instrument.
Finally, Nights in Venice rolled in like a stormfront, sprawling, sweaty and euphoric. By its last crashing moments, the Ballroom was united in the thrill of witnessing something both fiercely alive and deeply rooted in punk’s ancestry.
The Saints ’73–’78 offered not nostalgia, but vindication — a reminder of why their early catalogue remains so potent, so influential, and so emotionally resonant nearly five decades on. This wasn’t a museum piece. It was a living, roaring testament to a band who helped reshape the language of punk, and who, in 2025, remain devastatingly powerful.
A mighty, razor-sharp performance — and a night that will live long in the memory of everyone who packed into the Electric Ballroom to witness it.
Live review of The Saints @ Electric Ballroom, London by Simon Phillips on 25th November 2025. Photography by Peter McDonnell.
EMF, Jesus Jones & Bis Bring Britpop Energy Back To O2 Shepherd’s Bush Empire
Share Thing