“Ladies and gentlemen,” roars Sum 41’s bleach-blond ringleader Deryck Whibley for the first of approximately one million times tonight, “let me see those hands in the air!” Occupying a specific niche – somewhere between an overzealous dodgem operator and a transatlantic celebrity starring for the first time in a British pantomime – the frontman’s presence is showy, silly, and touchingly earnest. “Holy sh*t! Goddammit!” he exclaims a few songs later, shortly before playing live rarity Summer. “Turn the lights up so I can see the whole family!”
Mid-encore, right before obligatory closer Fat Lip, Whibley reveals that Alexandra Palace marks something of a homecoming; the Canadian vocalist’s family comes from “just down the f*cking street from here” in nearby Wood Green, and he recently gained UK citizenship.
The night is also a double birthday celebration for 2001’s skate-punk debut All Killer, No Filler and the following year’s heavier-leaning Does This Look Infected? Accordingly, the final night of Sum 41’s anniversary tour comes equipped with every pop-punk bell and whistle you could possibly wish for. As well as Simple Plan’s opening slot and a DJ gamely blasting hits by Fall Out Boy and Blink-182 for Alexandra Palace’s slightly soulless food court, Sum 41 are relentless performers, barely leaving a pause in their fairly broad, career-spanning setlist. Chugging debut single Makes No Difference, Midwest emo-tinged Pieces and 2016’s alternative rock anthem War all get a look-in alongside highlights from their first two records, while their most recent release Order In Decline is omitted in favour of a handful of brilliantly nonsensical covers. As well as giving Queen’s We Will Rock You the hardcore-lite treatment, Whibley demonstrates the riffs for both Smoke on the Water and Seven Nation Army.
Momentum is easily sustained by dry-ice cannons, call-and-response crowd participation, lashings of pink streamers, enough pyro to heat a Tory MP’s mansion, and one small, red comedy balloon which Whibley theatrically bursts to reveal a miniature cloud of confetti. They’re the oldest tricks in the book, sure but it hardly matters when they’re deployed with such genuine joy.
