Review by Phil Rozier for MPM
From Canterbury to the Kingdom of Shock Rock. The day began with a buzz in the air—one of those rare electric feelings that only a true Alice Cooper gig can summon. I boarded the train from Canterbury mid-afternoon, already spotting fellow fans in vintage tour shirts: “Welcome to My Nightmare,” “Trash,” “Raise Your Fist and Yell.” We exchanged nods, knowing we were headed to the same twisted carnival.
By the time we reached North Greenwich, the pubs around the O2 were swelling with anticipation. Pints were raised, eyeliner was smudged, and the chatter was all about what surprises Alice might have in store. Goosebumps? Absolutely. It felt like being part of a secret society—one built on riffs, rebellion, and theatrical mayhem.
Despite the venue being fully seated, a rarity for a Cooper gig, the energy was volcanic. From the moment plague doctors rang their bells and Nita Strauss tore into the opening of “Lock Me Up,” the crowd was on its feet. Alice sliced through a massive “BANNED IN ENGLAND” banner and stepped out like a gothic ringmaster, commanding every inch of the stage.
The set was a dream for diehards: “No More Mr. Nice Guy” and “I’m Eighteen” had the crowd roaring. “Feed My Frankenstein” featured a towering prosthetic monster that lumbered across the stage, a callback to Alice’s love of horror theatrics. “Poison” was pure singalong ecstasy. The guillotine made its iconic appearance during “Killer / I Love the Dead,” with Alice losing his head in glorious fashion, ready for Cheryl to take the usual onstage blood soaked kiss.
The backdrop screens were animated with eerie precision; twisting visuals, vintage horror motifs, and surreal dreamscapes that elevated the spectacle. Nita Strauss was transcendent. Her solo during “Black Widow Jam” was jaw-dropping. Nearly 20,000 fans held their breath as she shredded with surgical precision. Chuck Garric on bass was thunderous, locking in the groove with unrelenting power. His vocals are always a pleasure during ‘I Love the Dead’. The entire band was tight, theatrical, and clearly having a blast.
Then came the emotional gut-punch. Alice, wearing an Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt, led a heartfelt tribute to the late legend with a blistering cover of Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid.” Midway through, Johnny Depp walked onstage, guitar in hand, cigarette in mouth, and the O2 erupted. It was raw, unexpected, and deeply moving.
Depp stayed for “School’s Out,” which morphed into a mash-up with “Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2.” Giant balloons bounced across the crowd, until they met their fate via guitar headstocks and Alice’s sword work, a tradition that never gets old.
Accompanied by Michael Bruce, Dennis Dunaway, and Neal Smith, members of the original Alice Cooper band, joined for the finale. It felt like history folding in on itself, a reunion that made every fan in the room feel like they were witnessing something sacred.
Even with the seated layout, the atmosphere was electric. Fans stood, danced, and screamed like it was 1975. It wasn’t just a concert, it was a communion of misfits, metalheads, and lifers. I left to get beer, with ringing ears, a full heart, and the unshakable feeling that Alice Cooper still reigns supreme.
It was a celebration of legacy, loss, and the enduring power of theatrical rock. And for those of us who’ve followed Alice for decades, it was a reminder: the nightmare never ends – it just gets louder.
And it didn’t end there…. Next up, the might of Judas Priest!
The transition from Shock Rock to Steel, as Alice Cooper’s balloons burst and the guillotine fell, the crowd barely had time to catch its breath before the lights dimmed again. The unmistakable strains of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs” echoed through the O2—a poignant nod to the late Ozzy Osbourne, whose image would later appear in a moving tribute. The crowd roared, fists raised, and the stage lit up like a forge.
With a co-headline format, time was tight. But Priest didn’t waste a second. They tore through a 90-minute set that felt like a greatest hits mixtape on steroids. Minimal talking, maximum riffage.
Setlist:
All Guns Blazing
Hell Patrol
You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’
Freewheel Burning
Breaking the Law
A Touch of Evil
Night Crawler (a rare gem, played live for the first time in years)
Solar Angels
Gates of Hell
Between the Hammer and the Anvil
Giants in the Sky (tribute segment)
Painkiller
Hell Bent for Leather (Halford on a Harley!)
Living After Midnight (with Glenn Tipton joining onstage)
The set stretched just past the 11pm curfew, to the absolute delight of fans. At 73, Rob Halford remains a force of nature. Dressed in black, studs reflecting the lights like a human disco ball, commanding the stage like a high priest of metal, he hit notes during “Painkiller” that could shatter glass. His voice was piercing, operatic, and utterly undiminished. The drum intro to “Painkiller” was thunderous, and
Ian Hill held down the low end with stoic intensity, his basslines rumbling like tectonic plates. Richie “The Falcon” Faulkner was a revelation, his solos soared, his stage presence magnetic. The entire band played like a well-oiled machine, each song delivered with surgical precision.
One of the night’s most emotional moments came during “Giants in the Sky,” a tribute to fallen rock legends. The backdrop screen displayed images of Randy Rhoads, Ronnie James Dio, Kurt Cobain, Lemmy, Janis Joplin, Chris Cornell, and newly added Ozzy Osbourne. Halford paused to say:
“This music brings us love, it brings us peace… especially with what we’ve been going through these past few days. We love you, Ozzy.”
The crowd responded with a wave of lighters, phone torches, and tears.
Halford returned on a Harley Davidson, revving into “Hell Bent for Leather.” Then came “Living After Midnight,” with Glenn Tipton joining the band—an emotional and triumphant close to a night that celebrated not just Judas Priest, but the very soul of heavy metal.
I’d love to finish the review with that typical positive approach of ‘this wasn’t just a concert… it was a statement in time, defying the man, to prove that metal lives on’. Whilst this is true, and new artists enter the frame each day, I was left saddened by recent losses. Those rockers, those idols, those voices, those miracles workers; some of them have now left us. They cannot be replaced. I’m left wanting the next generation of bands to have the ability to help music fans through those darker times like the forefathers of rock were so capable of doing.
As music fans, we owe it to our younger selves to keep supporting the next generation of song writers, musicians and performers. As Halford said, without us (the fans), Judas Priest could not have had the journey they’ve had.
So go on, grab that guitar, change someone’s life.
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