When Billy Duffy pulls up on stage Taylor breezes through The Cult’s “Lil’ Devil” and “Love Removal Machine” with shrewd professionalism, before the arrival of Motorhead’s Phil Campbell presents a more significant challenge. A loving cover of Thin Lizzy’s “Still In Love With You” is beautifully played with a hefty dose of added crunch. Corey can’t hope to match Phil Lynott’s wistful sighing croon, and in its own way, Taylor’s strained horse cry proves a fitting tribute to an extraordinary lost talent. The night’s first unmistakable highlight emerges when Slayer’s Kerry King joins the throng on stage to piledrive his way through “Ace Of Spades” and the pummelling grooves of Pantera’s “Mouth Of War”.
A moment that totemic is next to impossible to follow, but Zakk Wylde makes a decent fist of it. Following in Tim Owens crowd-pleasing footsteps, Wylde forgoes the typically numbing grooves of Black Label Society for some crunching Sabbath covers (complete with Ozzy’s typically needling vocal). Deafeningly loud, Wylde and King’s insistent attack is undeniably enlivening, even if their take on “Fairies Wear Boots” is too busy, lacking the deep lingering ruminations of Iommi’s original.
Joe Satriani and Paul Gilbert have no problem winning over a divided crowd. Both laid back crowd pleasers use this quirky occasion to experiment. Gilbert grins as he noodles his way through a selection of ZZ Top, Jimi Hendrix and Joe Walsh classics, adding dazzling improvised solos that keep Dream Theater’s Mike Portnoy on his toes.
Satriani’s set is tragically short. Greeted with the hearty roar of a headliner, his everyman understatement is perfect for an occasion where not taking yourself too seriously is a must. “Always With Me, Always With You” is the finest tribute imaginable to Jim Marshall – sweet, solemn, reflective, but not remotely gushing. Gilbert soon re-emerges and, in a nerdy but lovable fashion, challenges Satch to an importune guitar battle, which he ends by classily bowing to his elder before launching into a storming rendition of Moloch’s “Going Down”.
Less impressive is Yngwie Malmsteen who is a bundle of theatrical energy when he bounds on stage. Too concerned with pandering, he shows none of his famed classical inflections as he assaults his fretboard relentlessly during a directionless reading of “Far Beyond The Sun”. It’s captivating at first, but his wild attack wears thin when he returns to join Glenn Hughes, who closes proceedings.
A bizarre choice of headliner, Hughes’ trademark wail still burrows its way into your eardrum with fearsome intensity, but he makes few concessions to an unfamiliar crowd. “Black Country” and “Rock Me Baby” bulldoze the crowd with sheer volume, but Wembley remains frosty as Hughes struggles to hold their attention post-Satch. Before too much damage can be done Al Murray, the night’s compere, pulls everyone on stage for a seismic take on Deep Purple’s “Smoke On The Water”. The room eventually rises to its feet (after some prompting) and the evening ends on a rousing note.
The house band, led by the insatiable Brian Tichy on drums, deserve considerable praise. They were dexterous and adaptable in the extreme, rising to every challenge tonight’s eclectic ensemble could throw at them. Marshall’s 50 Years Of Loud might have been a surreal mix of once in a lifetime highs and baffling misjudged lows, but it fulfilled its fundamental promise: it was loud as all hell.
