Barcelona is a city that has never been particularly interested in following the rules.

It is a city with a fiercely strong identity, deeply connected to Catalan culture, which throughout its history has known repression, resistance and a desire for self-determination. During Franco’s dictatorship, the Catalan language and culture were harshly repressed, while cultural resistance itself helped keep them alive.

And then there is Modernisme, with Gaudí and the rest of the gang: that very Barcelona-like urge to take what already exists and turn it into something else.

So, if there is one city where you could celebrate fifty years of punk, it might just be this one.

And if there is one band that can celebrate those fifty years in its own way, that band is The Damned.

A Piece of London in Barcelona

September 26, 2026.

Poblenou.

Razzmatazz.

The venue alone would deserve an article of its own.

The club occupies part of a former industrial complex that once housed an engine factory and a large building dedicated to textile production. Bricks, stairways, corridors, structures that look as if they have come straight out of an old factory: that industrial, slightly decaying atmosphere which, instead of being hidden away, is proudly put on display.

And then there is the sign.

The one that looks as if it has come straight out of a cinema from several decades ago and, show after show, changes its letters to announce who is taking the stage.

Tonight, those letters spell out one name.

THE DAMNED.

And suddenly, everything feels exactly right.

Before the Concert

But the evening begins long before the lights go down.

In the afternoon, one of those things happens that, when you go to see a band you have followed for years, you are unlikely to forget.

Captain Sensible walks right past the stage area.

And I manage to stop him for a photo.

A quick picture, without any elaborate preparation, but perhaps all the better for it.

Captain Sensible.

One of the key figures in the history of British punk.

Just a few metres away from me.

In Barcelona.

Before the concert has even begun.

And somehow, it is already a small taste of what is going to happen a few hours later.

The Damned Are More Than Just a Band

But there is something else that strikes me during the day.

The Damned are not simply a band you go to see.

They are a community.

One of those strange and wonderful communities that form around bands that have spent decades moving through the history of music, leaving behind a trail of concerts, records, photographs, stories and characters.

At the hotel we meet a group of English fans who have seen The Damned perform an uncountable number of times.

People who have not simply come to see a concert.

These are people who have followed The Damned for most of their lives.

And for this particular night, they have prepared something special.

Masks featuring the face of Monty Oxy Moron, the band’s keyboard player.

The reason?

Monty is celebrating his birthday at midnight.

So why settle for simply singing “Happy Birthday” when you can turn the audience into a small army of Monty clones?

The masks go on.

And, naturally, they eventually make their way onto the stage too.

During the concert, several are thrown towards the band.

And at one point, something surreal happens:

Dave Vanian picks up one of the masks and puts it over his face.

Not just once.

He does it at several points during the show.

And for a few seconds, The Damned’s frontman becomes Monty Oxy Moron.

If someone had told me about something like this before the concert, I probably would have thought it was just another one of those wonderfully bizarre things that happen at Damned shows.

Instead, it actually happened.

But they are not the only fans who have travelled from far away.

From Milan to Barcelona, With Phantasmagoria in Their Hearts

Among the crowd we also meet two girls who have travelled from Milan.

And all it takes is one look to understand how deep their connection with this band is.

One of them is sporting a hairstyle inspired by Dave Vanian during the Phantasmagoria era.

The other is a true cosplay enthusiast.

But above all, they have done something that every Damned fan has probably dreamed of doing at least once in their life.

They managed to meet every member of the band.

Photos with everyone.

And they did not turn up empty-handed.

They brought drawings and photographs to give to the musicians.

Not just souvenirs.

Small pieces of personal passion transformed into something they could leave with the band.

And it is precisely by looking at people like this that you understand just how powerful the relationship between a band and its audience can be.

Fifty years of music are not built only on stage.

They are also built in hotel rooms, on journeys, through clothes, hairstyles, drawings, masks made especially for a birthday.

And in the people who cross half of Europe simply to be there.

No VIPs. Just Punk.

Inside, there are hundreds of people.

No artificially constructed pit.

No VIP areas.

No special packages.

No barriers separating the audience from the musicians as if the people on stage belonged to another species.

There are simply people.

Those who arrived first stand at the front.

Those who arrived later make do.

And the music does the rest.

Because punk, in the end, is also this.

A room, a stage, a band and an audience that forgets everything else for an hour and a half.

It is the same feeling you imagine when looking at photographs of punk concerts from the second half of the Seventies: London, the Roxy, the 100 Club, The Clash, the Sex Pistols, the Ramones on the other side of the Atlantic.

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed.

The formula still works.

And Then the Lights Go Down

The lights go out.

There they are.

Dave Vanian. Captain Sensible. Rat Scabies. Paul Gray. Monty Oxy Moron.

Fifty years of history right in front of our eyes.

The Damned have arrived at Razzmatazz as part of the Final Damnation 50 tour, celebrating fifty years since the band was formed.

Back in 1976, they were among the key figures in the birth of British punk, and with New Rose they released what is generally recognised as the first British punk single.

Fifty years later, here they are again.

And the best part is that they have absolutely no intention of turning the evening into a museum piece.

From Punk to Goth and Back Again

The setlist is practically a journey through The Damned’s entire history.

It starts with Street of Dreams, and already you realise that this is not going to be simply a nostalgic celebration of the early years.

Then come Wake the Dead, The History of the World (Part 1) and Stranger on the Town.

Then Shadow of Love.

And suddenly we are deep inside that gothic universe which The Damned helped build during the Eighties.

Then come I Just Can’t Be Happy Today, Life Goes On, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Is It a Dream and Eloise.

Punk and gothic rock constantly intertwine.

There is no real dividing line.

And perhaps that is precisely what makes The Damned so fascinating: they have never been just a punk band.

The setlist proves it once again.

Eloise, their cover of Barry Ryan, gives way to Nasty, followed by Making Time by The Creation.

And when Ignite, Love Song and Second Time Around arrive, the journey inevitably heads back towards the roots.

Until she arrives.

Neat Neat Neat.

At that point, no explanation is needed.

And immediately afterwards:

Curtain Call.

New Rose.

The first single, and one of the band’s defining songs.

Then comes a surprise: White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane.

And finally, the perfect ending:

Smash It Up.

Twenty songs.

An hour and a half.

Fifty years compressed into a single room.

Right Up Against the Barrier

Meanwhile, I am there.

Right up against the barrier.

So close to the stage that it feels as if all I have to do is stretch out a hand and I will step straight into the history of British punk.

And with Dave Vanian occasionally putting the Monty mask over his face, the whole thing acquires that extra dose of madness that simply has to be there when The Damned are on stage.

And that is what I will remember most about this night.

Not just the setlist.

Not just the songs.

Not just the fact that I saw The Damned during their fiftieth anniversary.

But that physical feeling of being inside the concert.

Inside the crowd.

Inside the noise.

Inside that beautiful chaos that exists only when a band walks onto a stage and, instead of thousands of people scattered across an arena, finds hundreds of souls packed into the same room.

It is a feeling that big modern concerts, with giant screens, runways, special effects and reserved areas, sometimes make us forget.

Not here.

Here there is still contact.

The band.

The audience.

The music.

Nothing else.

Fifty Years Later

There is something symbolic about seeing The Damned play in Barcelona.

A city that has experienced repression and cultural resistance. A city that has built part of its identity around refusing to be homogenised.

And punk was born from exactly the same need not to conform.

Not necessarily to provide answers.

Sometimes simply to say:

this is who I am.

Fifty years later, The Damned are still here doing exactly that.

Maybe with a few more grey hairs.

Maybe with a few more aches and pains.

But with the same ability to turn a room into an explosion of energy.

And so, yes.

A hundred more concerts like this.

Thank you, guys.

And thank you, too, to those crazy English fans with the Monty masks, to the two girls who travelled from Milan with their drawings, photographs and Phantasmagoria-era hair, and to all those people who continue to travel, dress up, create and clock up the miles simply because, fifty years later, a band can still make them feel part of something.

Because perhaps that is the real miracle of The Damned.

Fifty years later, they don’t simply still have an audience.

They still have a tribe.

And that night, at Razzmatazz, for an hour and a half, we were all in there together.

Punks, goths, old fans, new fans, English, Italians, Catalans.

All in the same room.

All there for the same music.

Neat Neat Neat.

Here is the link to access the concert videos on my YouTube page. Enjoy!