A cold Tuesday night in Torquay shouldn’t feel this electric, but The Foundry was already buzzing long before the first chord rang out. Two full-sized tour buses were parked outside like visiting titans, hinting that this wasn’t just another midweek booking — this was a triple‑hit of rock ’n’ roll delivered by bands who live for the road. Inside, the crowd packed in shoulder‑to‑shoulder, shaking off the workday as Rubikon, Michael Monroe and Buckcherry prepared to turn an ordinary night into something loud, sweaty and unforgettable.
Rubikon fed off that energy immediately. Their set was lively, good‑natured and full of personality — the kind of opener that makes you think, “Yeah, tonight’s going to be fun.”
A bass-related technical issue hit during their second song, but the band handled it with humour and professionalism. The sound crew jumped in quickly, the problem was solved, and Rubikon didn’t miss a beat. In fact, the hiccup almost added to the charm: the band laughed with each other, nudged shoulders, and carried on like a group of mates who’ve been through far worse together.
Their camaraderie was infectious. Big grins, playful interactions, and a stage presence that said: we’re here to have a good time, and you’re coming with us. It was the perfect spark to ignite the night.
If Rubikon lit the fuse, Michael Monroe was the explosion. The moment he hit the stage, the room shifted. Monroe doesn’t walk — he launches. He tore into the opener Dead, Jail or Rock ’n’ Roll, immediately setting the pace for a set that barely paused for breath. From there he bounced between solo cuts and Hanoi Rocks classics, firing through Motorvatin’ with a grin that made the whole room feel like part of the chaos.
The band were just as animated, and the mood only lifted further when they paused to bring out a birthday cake for crew member Toshi, leading the crowd in a full‑throated “Happy Birthday” before slamming into Last Train to Tokyo. Monroe kept the nostalgia alive with I Can’t Get It, Don’t You Ever Leave Me, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, and a riotous Malibu Beach Nightmare, each one landing like a reminder of just how deep the Hanoi Rocks legacy runs.
His solo material held its own too — Old King’s Road, Rockin’ Horse, Shinola, Disconnected, and Ballad of the Lower East Side all hit with swagger and punch, while Hammersmith Palais (a Demolition 23. gem) added a gritty punk edge. By the time he closed with a wild, high‑kicking take on Up Around the Bend, Monroe had turned The Foundry into a whirlwind of glam‑punk theatre, leaving the crowd breathless and grinning.
Where Monroe brought glitter, chaos and flamboyant unpredictability, Buckcherry countered with a heavy, polished, American hard‑rock punch. They opened with the swaggering Lit Up, instantly locking the room into their groove, before powering through Roar Like Thunder, So Hott, Ridin’, and Let It Burn with the confidence of a band who know exactly how to work a crowd.
Their set had a satisfying ebb and flow — Come On and Gluttony kept the energy high, while their tongue‑in‑cheek cover of Say Fuck It added a blast of chaotic fun. Sorry brought a moment of emotional sway before the band ramped things back up with Good Time, Blackout, and a sprawling, party‑starting finale built around Crazy Bitch, weaving in flashes of Sex Machine, Bad Girls, Irresistible Bitch and even Proud Mary. It was a closer designed to send the crowd home buzzing, and it absolutely worked.
Buckcherry’s set felt like a victory lap: confident, loud, and delivered with the precision of a band who know exactly who they are and what their fans want.
What made the night so compelling was the contrast. Michael Monroe was glam‑punk theatre: wild, unpredictable, flamboyant, and endlessly entertaining. Buckcherry were hard‑rock muscle: tight, heavy, groove‑driven, and built for movement. They weren’t comparable — and that’s what made the co‑headline format work. Each band shone in their own right, offering Torquay two completely different flavours of rock excellence.
For a Tuesday night which felt so much like a Saturday, The Foundry felt like the centre of the rock ’n’ roll universe.
Words and Pictures by Martha Fitzpatrick
