The everlasting adage 'respect your elders' couldn't be more relevant tonight. Filtering into the sophisticated surroundings of her Majesty's Royal Festival Hall; a mob of fiftysomething punks filter into the oak laden concert room.

The curios sound of studded metal buckles jangle in the air as the mohawk'd masses take their seats. A somewhat incongruous setting the nature of the band in residence; the haunting drone of monastic chanting is exercised from the sound-system.

Fixed to the back wall of the stage, a video screen projects a sliding caption of an amber stained skyline. Erected in the foreground of the imagery, a crucifix, ominously festooned with nuclear weaponry begins to burn a hole into our sights.

The white lights in the room begin to die as Killing Joke glide onto the stage. Calibrating his gold coloured Gibson Les Paul to stun, Geordie Walker strums the abrasive opening chord to 'The Wait'. Rampant drum beating erupts in the background, and frontman Jaz Coleman addresses his followers with the harrowing intensity of an unhinged cult leader.

Dressed in a one-piece army jumpsuit, he strangles the microphone's neck chanting a verse of venomously vocalized words. Bewitched by the band's maniacal energy, the leather clad audience start to migrate from their seats and pool at the base of the stage.

A raft of flaying fists and plastic pints buoy from the venue floor, and the band segue into 'Love Like Blood'. An eerie synth groove is exorcised from the amplifiers castings aspersions of war-torn famine. Signifying this theme, the video screen above plays animated sequences featuring communist soldiers. Their militia green uniforms chime urgently with the aggressive percussion tones being blasted into the air. An outburst of superhuman fury can be felt as Coleman croons the words "till the fearless come, and the act is done".

Writhing with sweat, the crowd's penchant for politically informed punk reaches fever pitch when 'In Excelsis' is belted out. Uniting with the band, the anticipation, heat and fury coalesce in an unbridled explosion of hooliganism as the crowed chant "the glory of freedom, simple liberties, in exclesis!".

In total: a heart stopping performance transporting its listeners across history's unsettling political landscape, to the sounds of deafening gothic rock. OAP's? More like Old Aged Pioneers!