As a photographer and reviewer, there’s a small but meaningful moment that always makes me smile on those occasions it happens: Arriving at the ticket office to collect my pass and finding that the band, their PR, or management have gone out of their way to provide proper, band‑specific passes. It’s a gesture of thoughtfulness that speaks volumes to me because like most togs and writers at this level I have to fit this in around my job and family commitments – Most of us do this for the sheer love of live music and this level of consideration reminds me why I love my hobby so much – Collecting tonights pass set the stage for an evening where my tiny contribution felt totally valued before I’d wrote a word or took one sinle shot. Anyway I apologise, and get back to the reason you’re here.
In stark contrast to the weather outside, the O2 Ritz pulsed with heat, sweat, and the kind of communal electricity that only live music can conjure; The Rasmus’ Weirdo Tour 2025 rolled into town with a triple‑threat lineup that turned a regular gig into a full‑blown celebration of sound, spirit, and solidarity.
Block of Flats: Anything But!
Opening acts can be a gamble – Warm‑up fodder, background noise, or, if you’re lucky, a revelation. Block of Flats were definately the latter. From the first riff, they detonated any lingering Monday malaise. Their sound was tight, punchy, and joyfully unpretentious – A blend of indie grit and punkish swagger that had the crowd jumping, fists pumping, and heads nodding in unison. No one was easing in; this was a full‑throttle start.
They played like they had something to prove, and by the end of their set, they’d proved it ten times over. The Ritz floor was already sticky with spilled drinks and adrenaline, which is always a good sign.
The Funeral Portrait: Drama, Drive, and Dazzle
Next up, The Funeral Portrait – A band that doesn’t just play music, they perform it. Their theatrical edge added a delicious layer of drama to the evening, with soaring vocals, gothic flair, and a stage presence that felt part rock show, part ritual. They didn’t just raise the energy – They reshaped it, turning the Ritz into a cathedral of catharsis.
Their set was a masterclass in controlled chaos: melodic breakdowns, explosive choruses, and moments of eerie stillness that made the crowd lean in before being swept away again. By the time they exited, the room was primed – Emotionally and physically – For the main event.
The Rasmus: Heroes, Hosts, and Heart
Then came The Rasmus. From the moment they stepped on stage, it was clear this wasn’t just another tour stop – It was a homecoming of sorts. Manchester embraced them like old friends, and they returned the favour with a set that was equal parts nostalgia, novelty, and raw power.
Opening with Rest in Pieces, they wasted no time diving into the darker corners of their discography, but it was during Guilty – The second track -That something extraordinary happened. A medical emergency broke out about a fifth of the way back from the front.
What could have been a moment of panic became a testament to the band’s true character. They stopped playing instantly, brought up the house lights, and above the noise that remained, calmly directed venue staff to the incident. No drama, no delay – Just care, clarity, and compassion.
The crowd held its breath. The staff and medics acted swiftly. And once the situation was under control and the floor cleared, the band resumed – Not with bravado, but with grace. It was a moment that reminded everyone that gigs aren’t just about music; they’re about people.
With the emergency behind them, The Rasmus launched into a set that felt like a journey through their evolution. From the haunting No Fear to the fiery Time to Burn, they balanced old‑school anthems with newer, weirder cuts that gave the tour its name.
The medley of Bullet and Still Standing Shot was a standout – A sonic rollercoaster that had longtime fans screaming lyrics and newcomers swept up in the storm. October & April offered a moment of tenderness, while First Day of Chaos and Creatures brought back the edge.
As In the Shadows rang out across the Ritz, I felt a lump in my throat. My now 30 year old daughter Ria couldn’t make the gig – Work commitments kept her away – But the song carried her presence into the room. When ITS first hit British shores, Ria insisted I learn it on guitar just so I could teach it to her, and as a dad i was happy to oblige. I dont really play guitar any more, and when i did play I was alot more David Bowie than David Gilmore, but those memories came flooding back with every note. It was a moment of connection across time and distance for me, and proof that music doesn’t just live in venues – It lives in us, for us, and because of us.
By the time F‑F‑F‑Falling hit, the Ritz was a riot – In the best sense. Phones were forgotten, voices were hoarse, and the floor was alive. Fantasy and Weirdo closed the main set with a flourish, before the encore – Sill a Way and the Weirdo Medley – Wrapped things up with a wink and a wall of sound.
Among the balcony crowd was Lori, who had asked if I could take a picture of her with the band in the background. Normally happy to oblige, unfortunately on this occasion I had the wrong type of lens on. As we chatted, she told me that she was a lifelong fan who’s followed The Rasmus for 30 years – And she wasn’t alone. Flanked by her two now grown children, she danced, sang, and cried with joy through every song, her devotion radiating across the room, proving that gigs aren’t just about sound – They’re about connection, memory, and the kind of generational magic that only live music can deliver. It was a reminder of why live music matters – The sweat, the spontaneity, the shared humanity. Each band brought their own flavour: Block of Flats with their raw energy, The Funeral Portrait with their theatrical punch, and The Rasmus with their seasoned brilliance and unshakable heart.
Manchester showed up. The bands delivered. And somewhere in the chaos, connection, and catharsis, a little magic happened.
