Live Review: The Darkness @ Lincoln Theatre — 9/7/25

There’s something about walking into the Lincoln Theater in Washington, DC, on a Sunday night that already feels a little surreal. It’s a room built for a different era, all velvet seats and golden trim, the kind of place you’d expect to host a gospel revival or a jazz orchestra. But on this night, it wasn’t gospel or swing — it was The Darkness, England’s most gloriously unashamed defenders of guitar theatrics, falsetto wails, and rock and roll excess. And believe me, the place shook like the plaster might crack at any moment.

The Lincoln has a way of holding sound so that you feel it in your sternum, and from the second the lights went down, the crowd knew they weren’t in for a restrained evening on Sept. 7. The Darkness thrive on spectacle, absurdity, and sincerity in equal measure, and Sunday night was a masterclass in how to turn a show into a communal celebration.

They opened with a new song off of their latest album Dreams on Toast, called “Rock and Roll Party Cowboy,” and it was as tongue-in-cheek and theatrical as you’d hope.

Frontman Justin Hawkins strutted out in a velvet jacket that could’ve been borrowed from a glam rock wardrobe department as the band ripped into the opening riff, and just like that, Washington DC was transformed into a honky-tonk glitter palace.

The audience leaned right in, chanting, clapping, some already dancing in the aisles despite the Lincoln’s seated setup. Security was nearly non-existent by the end of the set, with the way the crowd rushed the stage and fell over the seats. That’s one of the quirks of that venue — you walk in thinking you’ll politely sit, but when The Darkness hit their stride, standing feels like the only option.

By the time they launched into “Growing on Me,” the second song of the night, the band had hit full velocity. Rufus Tiger Taylor (yes, son of Roger Taylor of Queen fame) hammered the drums like they were a dare, while Frankie Poullain stalked the stage in his trademark suit and handlebar mustache. Dan Hawkins, ever the quiet anchor on guitar, held the sound together while Justin screamed, shredded, and generally behaved like a man possessed by the spirits of both Freddie Mercury and Angus Young.

Watch The Darkness perform “Growing on Me” live in 2003 via YouTube:

One of the things I’ve always loved about The Darkness is their refusal to choose between parody and sincerity. “Get Your Hands Off My Woman” is equal parts joke and primal scream, and watching the DC crowd yell the chorus back was almost cathartic. You could feel years of pent-up frustration being let out, not unlike karaoke after a bad week at work, except louder and with Justin Hawkins hitting the high notes up on stage.

“Mortal Dread” slowed the mood into something darker, more theatrical, and then “Motorheart” pulled it back into overdrive. The band sprinkled in just enough newer material to keep things fresh, but let’s be honest — most people were there to scream the classics and to witness Hawkins climb octaves like a gymnast on vocal steroids.

Somewhere mid-set, Justin decided to break into a snippet of “Crimson and Clover.” It lasted maybe a minute, a tease, a wink, a reminder that beneath the silliness is a singer who can flat-out sing. You could hear murmurs around me — “Wait, he’s doing Tommy James now?” — and then, just as quickly, the band tore into “Walking Through Fire,” which lit up the theater with a wall of sound.

“Barbarian” was one of those songs that made you forget you were in a seated theater. The riff is colossal, almost cartoonishly heavy, and yet it fit perfectly against Justin’s falsetto. The Darkness always flirt with absurdity, but they never lose the grit and that’s the balance that keeps them from being just a novelty act — they can play, and they play hard.

Then came “Love Is Only a Feeling,” one of the most genuine moments of the evening. The falsetto, the slower burn, the shared sway of the audience — it was the closest thing to tender you’ll get at a Darkness gig. For a few minutes, the theater wasn’t roaring; it was humming, glowing, arms draped over shoulders.

Watch the official music video for “Love Is Only a Feeling” by The Darkness on YouTube:

Then, because they never linger too long in sentiment, they ripped it apart with “Givin’ Up,” a straight-up barn burner that had people spilling drinks in the aisles.

And then — an unexpected highlight — Rufus Taylor stepped up to sing lead on “My Only.” The crowd gave him a hero’s welcome, and you could see the grin across his face. It wasn’t just a novelty; he nailed it, his voice punching through the mix, adding a fresh layer to a band that thrives on surprises.

Justin has always had a soft spot for cheeky covers, and DC got a double treat. First, a snippet of Aerosmith’s “Angel,” delivered with that sly grin, like he knew he was baiting us. And then, suddenly, the full band ripped into “Sweet Emotion.”

It wasn’t just a cover — it was a reverent, rollicking homage. If you closed your eyes, you could almost hear Steven Tyler, but open them, and you’d see Justin Hawkins in a leisure suit. Later, when they launched into Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls,” it didn’t feel forced. It felt like destiny. Rufus pounding the kit, Frankie laying down the groove, Dan providing the anchor, and Justin giving his best Freddie flair — it was DC karaoke on steroids, and the crowd screamed like they were part of the band.

Even with the covers, their own catalog carried the night. “The Longest Kiss” stretched into something sprawling and dramatic, and “Friday Night” had the whole theatre clapping on the off-beat like a high school gymnasium talent show gone glam.

“Japanese Prisoner of Love” hit with unexpected heaviness, almost punk in its delivery. And of course, the moment everyone waited for — “I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” Phones went up, people who hadn’t stood all night jumped to their feet, and the Lincoln Theatre became a 1,200-person choir. That song has lived a thousand lives, from car commercials to wedding playlists, but live, with Justin Hawkins shrieking to the rafters, it still feels electric. They could’ve stopped there, and no one would’ve complained. But The Darkness always have one more trick. They came back for “Weekend in Rome,” a cheeky party track that felt like the perfect Sunday-night-too-late-to-care anthem.

Watch the official music video for “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” by The Darkness on YouTube:

And then, the closer: “I Hate Myself.” It was raw, messy, almost sloppy in its energy, and that’s what made it work. The Darkness don’t just give you polish — they give you chaos wrapped in glitter. By the end, Justin was shirtless, Rufus was standing behind his kit, Frankie had a big smile on his face and the crowd looked like they’d been through a collective exorcism. Leaving the Lincoln, you couldn’t help but smile, because you realize that The Darkness aren’t just a nostalgia act. They’ve got the catalog, the chops, and the showmanship to turn a Sunday night in Washington into a full-on rock and roll revival.

And maybe that’s the thing — rock has always needed its tricksters, its jesters, its larger-than-life weirdos who remind us not to take ourselves too seriously. The Darkness have leaned into that role, but they’ve never been a punchline. They’re a party, a catharsis, a glitter cannon going off in the middle of your workweek and that’s exactly what rock and roll is supposed to do!

Setlist

1. Rock and Roll Party Cowboy
2. Growing on Me
3. Get Your Hands Off My Woman
4. Mortal Dread
5. Motorheart
6. Crimson and Clover (snippet of song)
7. Walking Through Fire
8. Barbarian
9. Love Is Only a Feeling
10. Givin’ Up
11. My Only (with Rufus singing lead vocals)
12. Heart Explodes
13. Angel (Aerosmith cover – snippet of song)
14. Sweet Emotion (Aerosmith cover)
15. The Longest Kiss
16. Friday Night
17. Fat Bottomed Girls (Queen cover)
18. Japanese Prisoner of Love
19. I Believe in a Thing Called Love

Encore
20. Weekend in Rome
21. I Hate Myself

Here are some photos of The Darkness performing live at Lincoln Theatre on Sept. 7, 2025. All pictures copyright and courtesy of Michael Sprouse/ Odd Rocker Photography.