Never a band to knowingly undersell themselves image-wise, after 30 years in the saddle Judas Priest have reached the point at which they are utterly beyond parody.
A big Wembley crowd of grizzled rockers and young kids chuckled as one to singer Rob Halford’s initial appearence in a gold sequined hood and cape, and practically collapsed in mirth as the old ham took the stage astride his traditional Harley Davidson, all studs and crotch-hugging black leather. Spinal Tap meets Tom of Finland – no other band would dare.
Don’t write off the music, though. In 1980 JP produced one of the greatest pop-metal albums of all time in British Steel and songs from that golden era still pack a mighty punch, mightier, dare one suggest, than material from the new concept album Nostradamus.
But on stage, at least, Judas Priest and Halford, their George Michael of metal have lost non of their outrageous chutzpah.
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