Review: Herman’s Hermits at Astor Theatre
Herman’s Hermits at Astor Theatre
Tuesday, August 26, 2026
More than six decades since they burst onto the global consciousness as part of the Sixties’ British Invasion, Herman’s Hermits returned to Perth on Wednesday night for a celebration both of their own career and that of their golden age peers. Forgoing the need for a support act, the Hermits brought to The Astor a show absolutely packed with verve and personality that even required its own half-time break.
Led by the sole remaining member of the 1964 line-up, drummer Baz Whitwam, still reportedly the best gaffer in the business, the Hermits in their current iteration included Jamie Thurston (bass), John Summerton (guitar), and Tony Young (keyboards), formerly of The Tornados, Flintlock, and Gerry and the Pacemakers, respectively. The lead vocals were split across the setlist, as Thurston provided the raffish Mancunian lilt akin to original singer Peter Noone, whilst Summerton brought a powerful freshness with his vocals, often giving a whole new energy, either in arrangement or interpretation, to these tried-and-true classics.
Thurston led the audience in singalong for the very first chorus of the night, to the Hermits’ breakout hit I’m Into Something Good,before the band immediately switched from the to-that-point-expected greatest hits template, with their second song being a fabulous cover of The Searchers’ Love Potion No. 9.
Whitwam rose from behind his drums and approached front of stage to begin the story of the band. He started from age eleven, with he and his friends enamoured with a certain Elvis Presley on the silver screen—cue the band’s next track, an abbreviated Jailhouse Rock—that led to a first set of drums bought by his parents on hire purchase.
A consummate storyteller, Whitwam gave the audience a window into the heights of fame he and the original band members had attained sixty years ago. He told of meeting Elvis on a film location in Hawaii, The King’s first question being why five lads from Manchester were outselling him at the time, then proceeded to an NME awards ceremony at Wembley, the Hermits very much an equal part of a stellar guest list. To the latter, tonight the band paid tribute to The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, performing I Feel Fine and It’s All Over Now, respectively.
Whitwam also fondly remembered an American tour, likely at the absolute pinnacle of the Hermits’ success, where they took on board a little-known support band called The Who for their very first trip across the pond. Whitwam visibly winced at the hotel damages that were incurred across those weeks, before he appeared to revel in the memory of Keith Moon and Pete Townshend trashing the warm-up set, as they were often wont to do, before their cleaner-cut headliners came to stage a few moments later with the near-complete reversal of direction from Mrs Brown, You’ve Got a Lovely Daughter.
What could have been viewed as an attempt to pad out the concert with a variety of non-Hermits songs, as if tonight were any jukebox musical, had instead become something far more organic, natural and flat-out fun. Across the stories, music, and everything else that was part of this evening, the band committed fully with their heart, soul, and energy, with the audience reacting warmly in kind.
All the Hermits’ other big hits were given their own space and full appreciation by the crowd. A powerful performance of End of the World was given both as its usual dedication to Derek Leckenby, the band’s original guitarist who passed in 1994, and also tonight for Dolly Parton, whose death had been reported earlier in the day.
The Hermits’ nod to Buddy Holly, Can’t You Feel My Heartbeat, possibly the most bubblegum hit of their career, was given an especially jaunty and rollicking treatment, while 1966’s No Milk Today was paired in its introduction to England’s World Cup win that year. Thurston morosely noted that, even though the same song had been on high rotation throughout this current tour, the self-same tournament outcome had not occurred last month—football itself would be waiting longer to “come home”.
The intense yearning of My Sentimental Friend was interpreted wonderfully by Summerton, with what appeared a slightly different arrangement to the regular. After such a cathartic rollercoaster of emotion provided in a mere three minutes, the next few tracks were high-energy bangers, from The Tremeloes, Jerry Lee Lewis, and even through to The Doobie Brothers. The band and the audience were now rocking, and spontaneous dancing had finally erupted across the front rows and aisles.
The band asked the crowd to break out the torches on their phones and the la-la-las in their hearts to accompany gentle love song, There’s a Kind of Hush, before announcing the end of the concert, despite a fan’s defiant, heartfelt and clearly audible no, with I’m Henry VIII, I Am. A ridiculously fun singalong ensued, with first the audience, then the tour manager, then every bandmate given a verse, the very same verse, six times over. The crowd was unsure whether to laugh or cry, either at the goofy antics or the show wrapping up.
This was a rollicking evening with distinct end-of-tour vibes, where the band looked to be enjoying themselves just as much as their fans. A legendary outfit with multiple top ten hits across a multitude of territories, what could have been a staid run-through of the essential catalogue instead had become a joyful celebration not just of Herman’s Hermits but also of the entire generation of artists that had come up with them. The newer recruits to the band had given full appreciation to Whitwam and the late Leckenby for keeping the band afloat through the decades and various personnel changes, with the audience tonight also providing their full-throated agreement to the same. An absolute and pure gem of a concert.
PAUL MEEK
Photos by Linda Dunjey
