Madness

There’s something about Madness that defies time. Maybe it’s the brass, maybe it’s Suggs’ irrepressible charm, or maybe it’s just the sheer joy they radiate, but standing in the Eden Project on a warm July evening, surrounded by 6,000 skanking souls, we felt like we’d stepped into a time machine powered by ska and sentimentality.

We arrived early, partly to soak in the pre-show buzz and partly to get a good car park space so we could hot foot it out fo there at the end. The Biomes loomed like alien temples, glowing in the dusk, and the crowd was already a patchwork of trilbies, Hawaiian shirts, and grins.

Madness took the stage ten minutes late, but no one cared. The moment One Step Beyond kicked in, the place erupted. Suggs, ever the master of ceremonies, strolled out with that familiar Cockney swagger and immediately had us eating out of his hand. “Apologies to those expecting the Wurzels reunion,” he quipped, and just like that, the Eden Project became their House of Fun.

The setlist was a glorious romp through their back catalogue. Baggy Trousers, Embarrassment, My Girl, The Prince, each one greeted like an old friend. We found ourselves dancing next to people of all ages, clearly 3 generations of some families were there all together. That’s the magic of Madness, they’re generational glue.

Midway through, we got a surprise guest. Warwick Davis, yes, that Warwick Davis, popped up on stage to declare his lifelong love for the band. He didn’t quite run around the stage as he promised, but there was some enthusiastic bouncing and arm-waving, and the crowd lapped it up. Suggs looked genuinely touched, and they even reprised One Step Beyond in his honour.

As the sun dipped behind the Biomes and the lighting took over, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn’t just a party anymore, it was something deeper. House of Fun, Baggy Trousers, and Our House landed in quick succession, and suddenly everyone was dancing like their lives depended on it. Even the security staff were nodding along, even the one who got a blast in the ear from Lee Thompson's saxophone. Lee was on great comedy form all night.

Then came It Must Be Love. We’ve heard it a hundred times, but there was something about hearing it here, arms raised, voices unified, that made it hit differently. It was tender, euphoric, and oddly moving. Suggs didn’t milk the moment, no drawn-out ego stroking, just a quick break, a sip of something cold, and back they came for the encore.

Madness and Night Boat to Cairo closed the night, and if the crowd had any energy left, they spent it all right there. We watched a man in a fez collapse onto the grass, laughing, while his mate tried to revive him with a Cornish cider. It was that kind of night.

Production-wise, Eden doesn’t need much. The natural amphitheatre, the glowing domes, the twilight, it’s all built-in spectacle. But the lighting crew deserve credit for enhancing the mood without overwhelming it. The whole place shimmered with warmth and nostalgia.

Madness aren’t trying to be anything they’re not. They’re not chasing trends or reinventing the wheel. They’re just being themselves, cheeky, heartfelt, and endlessly entertaining.

Forty-six years into their career, they’re still packing out venues, still making people dance, and still reminding us that music doesn’t have to be complicated to be profound. Sometimes, all you need is a saxophone, a good hook, and a frontman who knows how to make you feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Madness at Eden wasn’t just a gig. It was a celebration, of music, of memory, and of the kind of joy that only comes from sharing songs we love with people who love them too.