Live Review: Sum 41 - Ovo Wembley Arena, London 31/10/2024
Sum 41 took over Wembley Arena for both a Halloween special and a final London hurrah.
Few rock bands are as iconic as Sum 41, or have as iconic a frontman as Deryck Whibley and his slicked back, spiky bleached-blonde hair. The Canadian favourites have had some ups and downs over their near-30 years — and, according to Whibley’s recently released memoir, ‘Walking Disaster’, even more than the general public know — but their influence on the punk landscape is undeniable, and their discographical legacy of eight studio-albums proves it. From 2001’s ‘Fat Lip’ or ‘In Too Deep’, to the likes of ‘Pieces’ or ‘The Hell Song’, the catalogues reflect a band whose musical prowess and anthem-writing gift has helped shape the past few decades; and the likes of last year’s universally acclaimed double album ‘Heaven :x: Hell’, with its era-spanning blend of genres, show that the band still very much ‘have it’.
And yet, as announced last May, even the best of things have to come to an end: once this world tour concludes, Sum 41 are no more.
But before we could get to the band’s penultimate UK show, it was time for their hand-picked slew of supports. First up came Karen Dió, a Brazilian punk-rocker, and someone for whom opening at Wembley, just a week after making her international debut at London’s Old Blue Last, says it all. Storming triumphantly on stage to Bill Conti’s ‘Gonna Fly Now’ (AKA the Rocky theme) and jumping straight into opener ‘My World’ — figuratively and literally, as she bounced around the stage — the star-in-the-making’s brand of defiant pop punk quickly made itself known. The likes of ‘So Funny’, and the unreleased ‘I Hope You Know It’s Not Me’ soon followed, along with the supposedly “bit more chilled” ‘Poor Man’, which saw Dió’s seething vocals dripping with sarcasm over squealing guitars, before the frantic duo of ‘3am’ and ‘Sick Ride’ got the crowd moving — even if the tracks seemed to end too quickly for the budding circle pits to truly blossom.
A brilliant set from Dió, and only the start of her conquering of the UK, supporting both Wargasm on select dates across the UK this month and Limp Bizkit next year.
The Bronx. A band with probably the most confusing set of album names out there (there’s their debut release ‘The Bronx’, standout album ‘The Bronx’, and of course most recent release ‘The Bronx’), the hardcore punk group have been coming to the UK now for decades; it wasn’t even their first time at the OVO Arena Wembley, with that honour going to their show last year supporting Rancid. And yet, you wouldn’t know it. From the smiles, shouts and general sense of sheer exuberant passion, as frontman Matt Caughthran and his unruly bandmates took to the stage and delivered one hell of a set, the night was left feeling special even before the men of the hour had appeared. This is a beautiful and historic evening”, the room was told; “but do not be fooled by the fancy pictures on the wall. This is a punk rock show”. With that, they were off. From the throat wrenching shouts of ‘The Red’, the furious chaos of ‘Heart Attack American’, or the bone-shaking bass of ‘Shitty Future’ — Caughthran’s vocal-shredding screams a soundtrack to the flailing-hands mosh pit opening up in the centre of the crowd — to the Sum 41- dedicated ‘Curb Feelers’, the champion-of-the-punk ‘Knifeman’ or the blistering ‘History’s Stranglers’, The Bronx really set the tone for the hours that followed.
There’s always a slight dissonance watching bands play their punk rock hits from 30 years ago. When the likes of Blink-182’s ‘What’s My Age Again?’ seems less a song celebrating maturity and more a question from a band that genuinely seems to have lost count, you wonder if the best days might be behind them. And yet, watching Deryck, Dave, Jason, Tom and Frank walk on stage as they start their final London show, reclaiming their place at the top and then triumphantly bowing out with something multiple people have lauded as the best album of their career, felt… powerful. Not just from the rampant showmanship and extravagant effects, either, or even Deryck’s buzzed lunging across the stage; there was a tangible, bittersweet electricity that left each song feeling more momentous than the last. Not that the extravagant effects were in any way lacking. There were the pillars of pyro and explosions of steam during opener ‘Motivation’ and the confetti and squealing guitar soloes of ‘The Hell Song’; there were the showers of sparks for ‘Landmines’, and the giant, middle-finger-flourishing skull materialising behind drummer Frank Zummo, its sanguine eyes menacing pinpricks in the darkness. There were even some unexpected bonuses; the giant balloons bouncing across the crowd and streamers raining down during ‘Underclass Hero’ were planned, but the effect that the streamers had once being caught on the rafters — the lasers bouncing off of them throughout the night to leave them looking like some grasping, tantalising tentacles of some luminescent, eldritch jellyfish — was mesmerisingly menacing. But the likes of the emotional, gentle ‘War’, the pantomimic interplay between Deryck and the crowd on the band’s farewell, or the more poignant moments like ‘Walking Disaster’, the emotional, semi-acoustic intro of which left the entire room twinkling like the night sky, were really what stood out it. Not to mention the crowd’s channeled fury — with the band having to stop halfway through their second track to let paramedics get to some poor unfortunate soul down on the ground, you’d think that the fans would tone it down, but they’re were only getting started: particularly in the case of the metalhead-dedicated ‘We’re All To Blame’, an abyssal circle pit rupturing the crowd, or the equally raucous and rough ‘No Reason’, with what seemed like half of the crowd being sucked into that same Charybdian chasm.
And, of course, the sheer noise of the 10,000 strong room during the likes of ‘Fat Lip’, ‘Still Waiting’ and ‘In Too Deep’, coupled and groups embracing, crying, and generally enjoying their favourites live one last time.
One final airing of ‘Noots’, a wildly unexpected live debut of the closer for 2004’s ‘Chuck’ coming as a second encore, and suddenly the night was over. And, by the time you’re reading this review, Sum 41 will have also played their Cardiff date, and thus the UK leg of their final European tour. That’s that.
As much as anything, Sum 41 showed other bands how to do a farewell show *right*. Playing for two hours, a host of songs from across the band’s history, pyrotechnics, confetti cannons and showmanship, and unexpected live debuts of tracks a solid 20 years old. It doesn’t mean that they’re right to leave, or that fans won’t demand a reunion show in a handful of years, but for now? Sum 41 and have shown one last time just how and why they’re considered one of the best bands to do it.
Words by James O’Sullivan
Photo Credit: Jez Pennington
