The lead vocalist and guitarist of Gallows jumped down to the pit and played their entire set amongst the crowd, opening themselves up to kicks and punches from about ten hardcore/drunk punters, with everyone else watching intently (especially security). Front man Frank Carter strutted violently around the floor, equipped with hoodie and microphone, and delivered a raucous performance beyond that of a typical support act. He apologised for cancelling the band’s last planned tour down under, and also apologised for playing the Taste of Chaos tour last time they were here, for “forcing everyone to stomach shit bands like the Used.” They more than made up for it, with a bizarre but nonetheless impressive performance in which the band’s tour manager sung (well, screamed) the last song and had probably the worst stage presence to grace Festival Hall in the last ten years.

California goth rockers AFI were next. Davey Havok seems to have a split personality of sorts; his gruff stubble and new haircut contradict his sparkly suit and matching sparkly earpiece. The band played a mixed set, both in terms of its contents and its quality. Songs from new record Crash Love shone but others like Triple Zero and The Leaving Song Part 2, whilst energetic, were mundane and will continue to prevent the band from truly escaping their patchy past and advance to new places. Havok gave his all; Death in Seasons ended with a series of solo passionate screams and bassist Hunter Burgan looked at times like his bass guitar was going to explode into flames. AFI were impressive, without a doubt, but were but a prologue to the enthralling story that was to come.

After a wait of about half an hour, the red-curtained stage was set, and the crowd were restless. At long last the lights dimmed, and who should appear but… America’s self-proclaimed worst comedian, Neil Hamburger. His gags were somehow simultaneously the lamest and funniest jokes I’ve heard, although only in combination with his hair, outfit and ridiculous voice. I could retell his jokes, but most of them aren’t fit even for this website. Rest assured the punch lines featured Smashmouth, Nickelback… and Madonna lactating dog food to breastfeed her children. The majority of the audience became quickly pissed off that the headliners were being delayed, and this was exacerbated by Hamburger announcing, “and here they are… “Faaaa-vourite jokes from my collection.” He baited the audience, secretly revelling in the heckling and proclaiming he had 1000 jokes still to tell. He eventually got drowned out by a raucous crowd chanting for their favourite band. It was all part of the plan.

The great Faith No More eventually walked onstage, and thousands of cheering fans erupted. The moment had finally arrived, after more than ten years of patient waiting. Set opener Reunited was a smooth crooner, and set the tone for an extremely professional but turbulent night; Patton could lull a baby to sleep and raise hell within a single song. The band donned business shirts and ties, but who knows if they were in it for the suitcases full of money. In any case, the band meant business and electrified the audience, who lapped up every memorable fucking second.

Mike Patton is one of rock’s few remaining genuine icons; he owned the stage and justified every bit of hype that has preceded the reunion tour. Everything from his manic voice to intense stare and wild physicality cement him as a god. He was the preacher, megaphone in tow, and we his congregation. Easy and Epic were enthusiastically received, while Patton kept the show relevant and modern, with a Poker Face cover and a neat version of Crowded House’s Don’t Dream It’s Over. And then there was a weird Olympic medley, but that was somewhat difficult to describe.

Rest assured, the band raced through hit after hit and proved exactly why they needed to reunite. Hard rockers Chinese Arithmetic and Be Aggressive hit as hard as they did twenty years ago, and demonstrated a gap between themselves and the opening bands in terms of song writing, musicianship and that something special. They were in their element.

The crowd at Festival Hall was no normal crowd. The night was originally an AFI sideshow, but was transformed into an entirely different beast with the addition of Faith No More. This meant, of course, that when AFI was playing, a large portion of the crowd stood towards the back of the venue with their arms crossed. Similarly, Faith No More caused the AFI-hards to recluse to the back, however Patton progressively converted the non-believers. By the third encore there was no room for debate, all faith had been returned. “Come see us tomorrow night,” Patton concluded, and no-one argued.