What’s a better way to celebrate the Spring Equinox in Glasgow than with The Darkness? The English ‘heavy’ rock band’s arrival at Glasgow’s elegant Royal Concert Hall is a perfect celebration of opposites — perhaps why the night itself feels like two entirely different shows. The first, a.k.a. everything before ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love’, is a riveting tour de force of ’80s rock genius (5 stars). The second, a.k.a. everything after, is non-stop nightmare fuel (stars are irrelevant; remember, life is a precious gift).

The night opens on a high. Support band Ash is as loud and powerful as ever, setting the tone for a night of nothing but adrenaline. Suitable, as The Darkness are pure adrenaline. They thrash into the room with boundless energy, metallic suits, and audacious hair.

The band delivers everything fans could ask for: touching interactions, surreal banter, and even beans-on-toast-themed merch. Naturally, the older hits receive the best reaction. Frontman Justin Hawkins hardly has to sing at all, as the room eagerly takes over the vocals for hits including ‘Get Your Hands Off My Woman’, ‘Friday Night’ and a necessary ‘Welcome Tae Glasgow’. The audience take more convincing for the newer songs, but the band’s ready for the challenge. Utilizing all their tricks, including gymnastics, chants, and detailed dance instructions — the band never once lose the crowd. Hawkins even briefly gives up the spotlight to drummer Rufus Tiger Taylor who croons his way through a sentimental ballad accompanied by awe-worthy puppy photos. (I’m telling you, they thought of everything). The night is a triumph.

Then it happens.

“We’re going to sing our most famous song,” says Hawkins.

There’s a brief, surprisingly touching acoustic rendition of ‘Christmas Time’.

Everyone laughs.

Still, they have to play it. We know it, the band knows it, Hawkins definitely knows it. But who said anyone gets to enjoy it?

Hawkins is noticeably angsty. Anyone stupid enough to own a phone is chastised. Those with the gall to be close to the stage without jumping enough are singled out and shunned. Hawkins storms off. The crowd boos. Is it a bit? Nobody seems sure, not even the band.

Eventually, he returns. The song begins. But there’s visible unease throughout. When the song finally ends — amidst brief interruptions to yell at fans — there is undeniable relief. No pause to process; the band immediately shifts into a song that stirs up decidedly less resentment. It’s awkward, but we seem to have escaped largely unscathed.

So why are we still here?

And why won’t the lights go on?

Hawkins plays a riff. And another. And another. The crowd cheers; part politeness, part desperation. The riffs go on for over half an hour. The venue — once oddly charming — suddenly begins to feel like a trap. We’re stuck between a rocker and a hard place. The riffs continue. The lights refuse to come on, there’s palpable tension, and at least one SOS text is sent (sorry, Dad).

Finally, it ends. The band leave. Yet the lights don’t come on. Why won’t they come on? Another encore starts up.

There is no light.

There is no spring.

There is only the darkness.

You’ve probably guessed — from this review and the lack of news headlines — that we did in fact make it out. But it was touch and go for a minute. It’s a testament to sheer musical ability for a band to make a person feel like they’ll never see daylight again…and still want them to tour again. However, despite providing a showcase of impressive talent, they lose a star for forcing me to watch my life flash before my eyes. If they ever do return, and I hope they do, I propose we leave a certain song off the setlist.