Live Review : Skunk Anansie + So Good @ O2 Apollo, Manchester on April 4th 2025

It's debatable whether the demarcation of "big in the nineties" is a term of endearment or code for select appeal. What isn’t debatable is that when Skunk Anansie were big in the nineties they were distinctly out of kilter with the rest of the Brit rock fraternity. Part of it was their stereotype-trouncing frontwoman Skin, who single-handedly upended the pre-held perceptions of what skin colour and sexuality a rock front person should be, but a large chunk was due to their unique take on nineties rock. They simultaneously melded grating heaviness with a swaggering, funky sensibility. They produced in your face music that you could dance to, when everybody else was busy shouting “sorted” and tending to their egos. 

Having never fitted into any scene or movement, Skunk Anansie are undoubtedly having the last laugh as the Apollo is reverentially heaving. They have managed to dodge that dreaded “big in the nineties” tagline by cultivating a fan base that are not just here for the nostalgia. By continually pushing their sound forward and challenging the perceptions of what is hard rock, they managed to keep themselves relevant when most of their peers are now living off album run throughs and anniversary tours. They have even avoided the tried and tested formula of bringing along another 90’s survivor as a box office alluring opening act. Instead, they have leant into the zeitgeist and brought the distinctly now and modern So Good along for the ride.

So Good are punk pop as opposed to pop punk. Their set up of saccharine drenched frontwoman and two gyrating backing singer’s smacks of pop sensibilities. But it is encased in a libertarian and adversarial attitude that is straight out of the punk playbook. Under their Hilary Duff demeanour, there is a hell of a lot of subversive undertones. This is pop but with a mission to bring down civil society as opposed to its usual shallow aim of having a good time. Musically, it is rather crude, and the abominable sound for most of the set doesn't help. But there is something engaging about the way that they play with cultural norms and send them spiralling to the ground. This is commercial music with a distinctly acidic aftertaste, pop with a venomous sting in its tail. They may well still be in a gestational period, but there's something gloriously 2025 about the way they stick two fingers up at expectation.

It is immediately obvious that this is not a nineties revival crowd here for the two songs they remember from their student discos. This is a reverent and evangelical Skunk Anansie audience that is well versed with all the nooks and crannies of their veritable catalogue. What is also immediately obvious is that thirty-one years into their tenure and seventeen years into their second coming, they are an incredibly tight but also theatrically opulent live act. Skin emerges like some cyberpunk version of the wicked witch from snow white. She glides across the stage with her billowing cap contorting shapes behind her. She is an extraordinary stage presence, exuding charisma like the of the rest of us dispense carbon dioxide.  

Her voice is magnificent and capable of the most incredible vocal gymnastics. Within the short space of the opening salvo of ‘This Means War’, ‘Charlie Big Potato’ and ‘Because of You’, she inhabits more octaves than other singers get to in their entire career. She challenges rock's conventional monotype delivery by producing a cavalcade of sounds that stretch from dramatic wails to soft rasps. It becomes clear as the show rolls on that there is a mutual level of adoration going on here. The audience clustered at the front of the stage adore Skin and her compatriots, but equally it is clear that the band are enamoured with those gathered in front of them. There is no taking for granted going on here, no going through the motions. This show may be at the dying edges of their mammoth European tour, but the reaction of the band is still one of huge gratitude that anybody has come out at all. It is very easy to dispense with the platitudes of "this is the best show we played” or “you are the best audience ever” but when Skin states that this is, in her humble opinion, is the most fevertastic show they have played in this city, we believe her. 

The set is beautifully paced, there are no down moments or space-wasting fillers. Every track comes across as a monumental moment, anthemic and cinematic but with the emotion being very much worn on the sleeve. Bassist Cass is far more animated than you would expect from a stage 4 cancer survivor and his thumbing rhythmic lines provide a primal rush to their sound. Skunk Anansie have made a name for themselves by producing rock that is urgent, minimal and free of its more extravagant tendencies. Ace’s guitar parts are nominal and often unassuming. They provide the tracks with grit and determination, but they never pander to self-indulgence.

The strength of the material that they have to play means that they can throw out mid-set, career highlights such as ‘Weak’ and ‘Twisted (Everyday Hurts)’ without the set feeling lopsided. The former is stunning, with the audience taking on vocally the heavy lifting, leaving Skin to stand in admiration as two and a half thousand voices lift her lyrics up into the rafters. ‘I can Dream’ sees Skin leave the stage and dive into the now hurtlingly active pit. The boundaries between performer and audience are blurred as she joins the melee of bodies, seeming to be equally euphoric about the experience as those in her thrall. ‘Yes It’s Fucking Political’ sees the atmosphere ratchet up further, a bouncing call to arms that dispenses with disregard any vacuous musician that dares to dial in to the diatribe that music is not political. It may be knocking on its fourth decade of existence, but in the current turbulent times, it feels searingly relevant and a concerted call to arms.

‘Little Baby Swastikka’ feels similarly timeless. A furious tornado of dissension that is fuelled by rock, reggae, rasta and protest music in general. Tonight is about love and unity (and specifically the love and unity that the crowd feel with the band) but it is also about not being afraid to talk out and the beauty of rebellious dissent. The encore is inevitable, but what is interesting is that they choose to use it to debut not one but two songs from their upcoming new album. It says something for the over-exuberant goodwill of the crowd, that the inclusion of two unknown tracks does not in any way derail the now ecstatic atmosphere that encircles the Apollo. 

We are on much more familiar territory with the gargantuan ‘Hedonism (Just Because You Feel Good)’, which Skin dedicates to us. This is followed by an impromptu cover of ‘Whole Lotta Love’, with the familiar lyrics crooned back at Skin by the crowd. But it all reaches a crescendo with ‘Skank Heads (Get Off Me)’, with Skin crowd surfing and the pit bouncing in fervent delirium. The age or veteran status of either the band or the audience didn’t matter tonight. This evening was a joyous but also politically aware, testimony and celebration of the now. Skunk Anansie proved that they still have something to say and their emphatic audience showed that they are still ready to listen. A brilliant representation that being big in the nineties doesn’t mean you need to be irrelevant in the 2020s.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Skunk Anansie + So Good