Live Review : Def Leppard + Extreme @ Co-op Live Arena, Manchester on July 6th 2026

Halfway through the show, Joe Elliott surveys the capacity 23,000 Co-op Live and declares that this country needed a room like this. In that moment, it becomes clear that these lads from Sheffield always thought big; it's just that their homeland has finally caught up with them. Tonight’s performance is the utter personification of big slick arena rock. In every atom, it is built to entertain, and the hour and 50-minute running time slips by effortlessly. Fads have come and fads have gone but Def Leppard are still insurmountable and still relevant because they do what they do so well and on such a gargantuan scale. This is rock n ‘roll on steroids and it is utterly remarkable.  

Openers, or to be kinder special guests Extreme come across as a band totally at ease with themselves. Frontperson Gary Cherone is a flurry of hyper-dexterity. He struts, he climbs, and he hits most of high notes set by his twenty-something self. This is not a man going through the motions; he is thoroughly and utterly enjoying himself. By his side is probably one of the greatest guitarists the world has ever seen. Nuno knows he is good, and so does everyone else in the band. The set is therefore designed to give him not one but two opportunities (in the shape of ‘Midnight Express’ and ‘Flight of the Wounded Bumblebee’) to showcase his immense talents in the spotlight. However, for all his insanely stupendous ability, he comes across as genuine, self-effacing and very, very funny. In fact, his interactions with the crowd have an air of spoken word about them, full of heartfelt and beautifully timed humour.

This might be a truncated set but we get all the big numbers. ‘Decadence Dance’ opens the whole shebang and is still a staggeringly effusive mix of funk and rock with a chorus to die for. ‘Get the Funk Out’’ is magnificent in its ludicrous nature, whilst ‘Hole hearted’ is still a beautifully crafted country-esque stomper. But Extreme are perpetually aware of the shadow cast by that song. It has seen their children through school, and forever will be the albatross to which the rest of their output is compared. Tonight they treat it and, more importantly, the reverence that the record buying/streaming public has for it, with utter respect. It might well have been performed 40,000 times (as Nuno claims), but it is not thrown away or devalued. Instead, the crowd do the heavy lifting, propelling its lyrics high into the auditorium.

With their five pieces of commercial dynamite dispensed with, there is a question of what Extreme will use for a finale. Cleverly, they lean into Nuno's integral role at last year's Ozzy celebration. We get a note and an aesthetically perfect melody of ‘I Don’t Know’, ‘Bark at the Moon’ and ‘Crazy Train’. It is a fantastically vibrant and vital tribute to metal's most infamous protagonist. As ever, Nuno's fingers slide across the fretboard with effortless ease, and he fantastically replicates Randy Rhodes’ timeless solos. A fabulously enjoyable hour that illustrates once again that Extreme have lost none of their sparkle. 

As said, nobody does arena rock like Def Leppard. Tonight's event is a faithful facsimile of their much lauded Vegas residency. It is choreographed within an inch of its life, and every stage move, costume change and lights shift is consummately rehearsed. However, for all its structured grandeur, it retains a level of humanity and spontaneity. Joe speaks lovingly of playing the Free Trade Hall in the late 70s (though he gets his facts wrong by claiming that it was knocked down when in fact it has been repurposed as the Radisson Blu) and he regularly stops to marvel at the sheer scale of the new Co-op life. There is also an opportunity for each member to interact with the audience, and in all five cases, it feels sincere as opposed to stage-managed. Def Leppard may well be rock Gods that have stepped down from Mount Olympus temporarily, but they show real interest in their devotees.

Def Leppard have always understood the role staging plays in a good show (after all, they were the inventors of the in-the-round spectacle) and this evening is a stunning tempestuous tornado of lasers, AI-generated leopards and dancing light rigs. For the first number, ‘Rejoice’, they are imprisoned within a triangle structure, forcing them into intimate close proximity with each other. This, of course opens up to let them wander across the stage and its hefty vanity ramp. Joe himself is not content to be restrained by the performance area and, during the cover of David Essex’s ‘Rock On’ makes it all the way up to the top tier, crooning at its rather surprised inhabitants. He also disappears on a jog around the main concourse during ‘Slang’, indulging in a circuit that would have indeed pleased his pedometer. ‘Slang’ is also notable because it sees Nuno return to the stage and interact with Def Leppard’s dynamic guitar duo.  

There are notable signs of the ravages of time. Joe supports a blue rinse and sparkly jacket similar to your auntie Maude, and Rick Savage has obviously had more dental work done than the Sistine Chapel. But what hasn’t aged is the material. ‘Animal’ and ‘Let’s Get Rocked’ are thrown out early doors in a beautifully devised manner. This is giving the crowd what they want in a virtuoso sense. ‘Bringing on the Heartbreak’ is also sublime, proving that their ability to create bangers predates the big one-two of “pyromania” and “hysteria”. The final run is just pure hard rock heaven. ‘Armageddon It’ into ‘Love Bites’ into ‘Rock of Ages’ and into ‘Photograph’. A sublime explosion of soaring choruses, melodic guitar and perfect production. If you dig deep enough into anything currently created that purports to be some kind of rock, you will find echoes of these songs. The latter two are over 40 years old yet still sound eminently flawless. 

The acrobatic lighting rig triangle returns as they return to the stage for a vociferously called for encore. ‘When love and Hate Collide’ is an impeccable singalong, with our Joe sticking the microphone to the crowd more than he uses it himself. ‘Hysteria’ is majestic in its melodic pomp and the evening reaches its conclusion with the daft innuendo strewn ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’. It is stupid, and it is puerile and that is the point. It is dumb singalong rock at his absolute best. It checks its morals and its values in at the door and revels in its own ironic idiocy. Def Leppard’s continued ascendancy and domination is no fluke. They offer a two-hour escape from the mundanity of modern life that is probably more needed now than it ever was in their heyday. By the way of pristine production and top-class songsmith, they transport us away from East Manchester and to the glitz and glam of Vegas. Highly highly enjoyable.