There are support bands, and then there are bands who walk on like they have absolutely no intention of being support bands for much longer.
Collateral are very much in the latter camp.
“Place For Love” proves it straight away. Angelo Tristan runs out on stage like he’s headlining Wembley, and frankly, why wouldn’t he? The song is one of the classiest slices of AOR you’ll hear anywhere, all gleaming hooks, big smiles and that effortless sense that this is exactly where the band belong.
“Glass Sky” gives things a slightly tougher edge. There are piped-in backing vocals, yes, but they only add to the scale of the thing, and when the singalong kicks in, it underlines what Collateral have always had: choruses that feel like they were built for rooms far bigger than the one they are in.
Then there’s “Midnight Queen”, still arguably their best song, and let’s be honest, Bon Jovi haven’t written anything this good in years. That isn’t a cheap comparison either. Collateral understand that kind of blue-collar, hands-in-the-air melodic rock better than almost anyone doing it right now. They get the romance, the swagger and the heart.
Before “On The Long Road”, Tristan says it is his favourite song they’ve ever written, and the passion is obvious. It is there in the delivery, in the way the band lock in behind him, and in the sense that this is not just a set to win over a few early arrivals. It is a statement.
A couple of older ones finish things off. “Merry Go Round” has that familiar Collateral charm, while “Mr. Big Shot” lands with a certain extra meaning. You can’t listen to this one without thinking they deserve theirs. The big shot, the big chance, the big stage. All of it.
I’ve seen Collateral a lot, and they always impress. They have the songs, the look, the singer, the hooks and the sheer belief. Somewhere out there, there is surely someone ready to make them as big as they deserve.
As they leave the stage, Bon Jovi’s “Let It Rock” plays over the PA, and it feels apt enough. Collateral had spent the previous half hour doing exactly that.
There are band names that simply identify a group of musicians, and then there are band names that tell you exactly what you’re about to get. Warrior Soul has always been one of those.
They begin with “We Are The Government”, and frankly, you wish they were. Kory Clarke has spent the best part of 40 years screaming truth at people who either didn’t want to hear it or weren’t listening closely enough, and here, in 2026, most of it sounds less like nostalgia and more like the evening news with better riffs.
“Interzone” spits and snarls its way into life, all teeth and attitude, while “Back On The Lash” makes it clear that Clarke – resplendent in a sparkly jacket – is here to party, but only in the way Warrior Soul party: loudly, messily and with one eye on the collapse of civilisation.
“Love Destruction” still has that punk sneer, but there’s a groove underneath that absolutely slams. That’s always been the trick with this band. The rage is obvious, the politics are right there in your face, but there are songs here too. Big, ugly, brilliant songs.
“Rotten Soul” is all attitude and not much more, but when you’ve got this much attitude, who needs much more? “Cargoes Of Doom” is heavier, but Clarke has had that ability all his life: to stand in the middle of chaos and somehow make it sound like he’s directing traffic at the end of the world.
“The Fourth Reich” feels even more prescient now than it probably did when it was written. “Take some money from the defence department,” says Clarke, and when the “destroy the war machine” hook lands, the point is not exactly buried beneath metaphor. Warrior Soul have never been subtle. Thank God for that.
“The Losers” is magnificent because there’s such anger in what Clarke does, and when it is channelled properly it is perfect. He prowls the stage like a caged animal, part preacher, part agitator, part man who has seen too much and decided the only reasonable response is to roar about it.
“Punk And Belligerent” might not be his anthem, but it is surely his mission statement. Then “The Wasteland” closes things, fittingly the last song they play on the tour, still dissing Trump even though it is 36 years old. It remains one of my favourites, because the truly depressing thing is not that Warrior Soul still sound relevant.
It is that the world keeps proving them right.
Still, while the planet burns, at least someone is shouting about it with tunes this good.
By the time Tyketto walk on, they have already had to follow two bands who, in very different ways, have made their case rather emphatically.
Collateral had brought the polish and the hooks. Warrior Soul had brought the snarl and the apocalypse. Tyketto, though, bring something else entirely. They bring that rare thing that only bands who truly matter can bring: belonging.
“Thanks for being part of the Tyketto renaissance,” says Danny Vaughn at one point. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Maybe he doesn’t. Everyone else does.
It starts with “Rescue Me”, and purely and simply, Tyketto sound like one of the best hard rock bands on the planet. Not one of the best “heritage” bands, not one of the best bands from back then, not one of those acts trading on past glories. One of the best. Full stop.
“Wings” is greeted like an old friend, the kind you haven’t seen for a while but fall back in with immediately. “Burning Down Inside” follows, and once again you find yourself wondering whether Vaughn actually realises how good he is. That voice remains absurd, frankly: powerful, soulful, controlled, emotional, all the things singers are supposed to be, but so often aren’t.
“Higher Than High” comes with Vaughn talking about the power of music, and the fact the video was filmed right here gives it an extra resonance. There is something lovely about that. This is not some detached rock show happening in a room. It feels connected to the place, to the people in it, and to the moment.
“Strength In Numbers” captures the vibe of the night perfectly, becoming anthemic almost by instinct, while “Reach” is a simple plea for love, and you can almost feel the fun they are having playing it. That, perhaps, is the point. Tyketto are serious about the songs, but they are not weighed down by them.
The new material has folded in beautifully too. “Closer To The Sun” does not sound like an interruption, it sounds like it belongs. “The Run” switches gears, Vaughn introducing it as a song about a young Vietnam veteran, and it carries the weight without losing the band’s natural uplift.
Then comes “We Rise”, powered by veteran drummer Johnny Dee, once of Britney Fox, anchoring what Vaughn calls a “brand new anthem”. He is right, too. The keys are almost prog in places, the chorus is huge, and when Vaughn smiles that it is “coming to a stadium near you”, you half believe him.
Before “Circle The Wagons”, he speaks of the brotherhood between the band and their fans, and that is not throwaway stage patter. It feels like the entire evening in one thought. “Seasons” begins with a snippet of Tears For Fears’ “Everybody Wants To Rule The World”, before a deserved word for young guitarist Harry Scott Elliott, who plays like he belongs there because, quite plainly, he does.
“Harleys & Indians (Riders In The Sky)” is, as Vaughn puts it, the band letting loose and having a little fun, and it does exactly that. A Roxette cover — and the kind of choice that tells you plenty about Tyketto’s taste as well as their chops — the harmonica solo alone proves the point.
“Standing Alone” is more moving, partly because Vaughn seems genuinely taken aback by how many people are here, asking them to “help an old troubadour out”. They do, of course. They were always going to.
“Lay Your Body Down” brings a little dad dancing, and also a reminder that the songs from “Don’t Come Easy” still sound ridiculously fresh. I bought that record just before I bought Warrior Soul’s “Drugs, God And The New Republic”, which might explain a lot, but the truth is that both still stand up. Here, Chris Childs of Thunder gets his funk on, and the whole thing swings as much as it rocks.
“The Brave”, Vaughn says, was the first song he wrote for the new album, and it comes from the idea that we have been worshipping the wrong people. There are echoes here of another New Jersey band, the E Street one, not in imitation, but in spirit: the idea that ordinary lives, properly sung, can become extraordinary.
Then Ian Danter from Planet Rock appears to present the band with an award for the new album, and it feels right. Not ceremonial, exactly, but deserved. A marker. A moment.
For the encore, Vaughn grins: “It’s no secret what happens now.” Of course it isn’t. “Forever Young” is inevitable, but that does not make it any less glorious. Angelo Tristan from Collateral joins them, bringing the evening full circle, and for a few minutes KK’s feels like the centre of the melodic rock universe.
Danny Vaughn might not know what is happening with this Tyketto renaissance.
I do.
They are one of the best hard rock bands there is.
