Queens of the Stone Age live in Sheffield: celebrating the circus of rock and roll
Waking up to pouring rain and a text telling you that your travel plans for the day have fallen through felt like a recipe for impending disaster yesterday. “It’s fine,” I said, we’ll just get the train instead, and hopefully the weather will brighten up. But this is England – of course the rain kept pouring and my train was cancelled.
For two nights, legendary desert rockers Queens of the Stone Age are gracing Sheffield as part of Rock and Roll Circus, with high wire acts and fire performers keeping audiences entertained between sets. It seems a little rogue, because what do any of the bands on the line-up have to do with circus performance? Very little – although you can hardly complain about getting to see aerial acts and costumed performers while you wait for the next band to come on.
With the added pressure of getting there on time so as not to miss my friends’ band, Fuzz Lightyear, playing the second stage, there was no time to pick up some drinks for the journey. We made a mad dash for the next available train, hopped in a taxi (so retro) after many failed attempts to secure an Uber, and made it to Don Valley Bowl with two minutes to spare before their set.
Like magic, the rain eased up as we sprinted over to see our pals starting their first song. The sun came out, some more friends appeared, and Fuzz Lightyear gave a blistering set that proved why they’re one of the best bands emerging from the thriving Leeds music scene. Their heavy sound – made up of a blend of unmistakable riffs, pummeling drums, synth-laden accompaniment, and the primal shouts of frontman Ben Parry – was the perfect primer for QOTSA, and a large audience soon gathered, while others watched on from the hill.
With a Greggs van on site (it’s like they knew I was coming), several vegan sausage rolls were consumed as we later assembled on the hill to listen to Jehnny Beth, followed by The Bug Club. Bridging the gap between a day festival and a standard outdoor gig, the atmosphere was exactly what you’d want from a late August show. It felt low stakes – there was no rushing between stages and worrying about bands clashing – but it still felt festival-like, albeit on a rather small scale.
We all went down into the crowd for Viagra Boys, a band that you should always try and catch if they’re on a lineup. I’ll admit I’m not overly familiar with their entire discography, but that didn’t matter because the show they put on was a spectacle in itself – far rivalling the people waving fire around outside the tent. Frontman Sebastian Murphy paraded around shirtless, his heavily tattooed body unmistakable and his arse crack visible. Perhaps in the Victorian era, he would’ve been on display at a circus as the overly-inked-up man for people to gawk at. I guess that’s what he became here, too.
His audience interaction felt authentic and meaningful (he animalistically grabbed a handful of birthday cake from the crowd and instructed us to sing happy birthday to a woman turning 30), with no air of pretence or vanity, regardless of his half-naked appearance. Instead, despite the masculine charge you might associate with a punk band like Viagra Boys, there’s no hint of toxicity. They’re playful and real, not taking themselves too seriously while simultaneously delivering a flawless set.
Fat Dog was up next, although I can’t claim to be a fan, so back to the hill it was to fuel up before QOTSA. Then it was time for the main event. After opening with ‘You Think I Ain’t Worth a Dollar, But I Feel Like a Millionaire’ straight into ‘No One Knows’, all of the stress of earlier in the day firmly melted away. Josh Homme has a unique kind of stage banter, moving between teasing audience members for having tiny cocks, and delivering genuine sincerity, like taking the time to thank someone for a sign in tribute to the late Mark Lanegan, which led to an impromptu performance of ‘Hangin’ Tree’.
For two hours, the band proved their legacy, but the length of their set meant having to leave during the final song to catch the last train on time – the last song being one of my favourites, ‘Song for the Dead’. There’s an exquisite pain in having to leave a show when a song you really love is playing, the sound of it continuously getting quieter as you exit the grounds, only for the noise of a busker outside to take its place. I’d never wanted to stop a busker more in that moment, but hey, at least we didn’t get stranded in Sheffield.
