The healing begins - Eagles Of Death Metal at the Olympia, Paris

© Simon Poulter 2016

It was hard to tell whether this was closure or continuement, but we knew why we were there, and they knew why we were there. And, to some extent, we knew why they were there, too. "It's much more than just a show," the Eagles Of Death Metal's Jesse Hughes had emotionally told CNN earlier in the day. "I always lose myself in the music, but I'm going to lose myself in the kids, we're going to get lost in each other."

And so we did. All of us. Not in doom or despair, but the revelry of rock and roll at its most powerful, at its most uplifting and at its most fun. Those might seem trite sentiments but, just like the EODM's music itself, there was nothing pretentious or leaden about their return to Paris last night. It was stripped-back boogie, crashing drums, power chords and fuzz, and charisma by the truckload.

Perhaps, given the security at the door - heavily armed police, first, and then three separate pat-downs before even reaching the Olympia's storied entranceway - 'fun' was not going to figure heavily on the agenda of this potentially sombre of occasions. But the mood was light, rather than grim, the police and their machine pistols stern but not intimidating. And once inside, even the sight of those limping on crutches, still bearing the physical scars of that night last November, provided no more than a reality check that this night was about getting on with what everyone had intended to enjoy in Le Bataclan three months ago.

The mental scars, of course, were less easy to recognise: some said that they had figited nervously with their watches, checking for the 40-minute mark that, three months ago, had changed their lives. A few approached the counsellors that had been brought in to ensure that comfort was there for those who needed it. But - and this will sound corny, and I make no apology if it does - the eventual appearance of the Eagles on stage brought about an overwhelming sense of mutual love and, yes, celebration to the room, even if the reason everyone was there was, without overstressing it, for awful reasons.

Before November 13 last year it's possible that you'd never heard of Eagles Of Death Metal. Despite being in existence, in one form, since 1998, you may have avoided them. You might have been mistaken into thinking they were, indeed, purveyors of death metal, and therefore not your thing. Or, you may have been baffled by the construct of Queens Of The Stone Age's Josh Homme forming a side project with Hughes in the arid heat of California's Palm Desert, Palm Springs' blistering next-door neighbour, just down the road from the Coachella Valley.

Now everyone knows who they are. No rock band in the world would wish to be known for their part in one of the most notorious acts of violence of our time. But it's because they were on stage that evening in the Bataclan, and because they witnessed the same horrors as many of those in the Olympia last night did, that what could have been a dangerously awkward and even premature reunion became such an utter triumph. In fact, it became more than just a show.

As the lights dimmed, it seemed an age before EODM emerged from the wings. I'm sure more than just me wondered whether they would come out at all. However, the warm-up act - the delightfully bluesy Austrian duo White Miles, who'd been the support at the Bataclan in November - had done their job perfectly, and set up the audience.

For the headline act to not appear would have been understandable, but enormously deflating, but we weren't to be disappointed: as Jacques Dutronc's Paris s’éveille played out over the PA, Eagles Of Death Metal took to the stage with a defiant - and clearly tearful - Hughes declaring "Bonsoir Paris, we’re ready for this!". Mostly, we were too.

As Hughes took in great lungfuls of air, there were a few nervous glances exchanged in the crowd. No great surprise, to be honest. By the evening's end, everyone would be joined in euphoric mass communion, one that had only a little to do with November 13, and was largely a celebration of why anyone would get in a band or go and see one to begin with.

© Simon Poulter 2016

They began with I Only Want You, the first track of their debut album, stopping after a minute or two for a moment of silence, a challenging task at the best of times inside a pumped up concert hall. It may have been spontaneous, it may have been not, but if it was meant to be a token reflection of the underlying reason for us all being there, it was momentary punctuation. This was, in the words of Hughes - in his guise as Southern baptist preacher with a guitar - all about putting trust "in the healing power of rock 'n' roll".

"We are having a good time tonight - amen!", he declared, adding "Ain't nobody going to stop us." Hell, yeah. They rattled through the songs - 23 in all - short, sweet, slabs of loud, grungy pop, the kind that Bowie and Bolan made good, even throwing in crowd-pleasing covers like Duran Duran's Save A Prayer. Hughes and Homme may be the focus of attention in EODM, but this is a band's band, all of its parts - the Billy Gibbons lookalike Dave Catching and Eden Galindo on guitars, bassist Matt McJunkins and second drummer Julian Dorio all colluding to create a frenetic two or three hours of foot-numbing fun.

There was precious little pathos, thankfully. The Eagles were there to finish the job that had been so abruptly halted in November. But there were, too, 'moments': a crocheted red-white-and-blue scarf, launched into the crowd by my friend Theresa, made it's way to the front of the crowd and then around Hughes' neck: "I want to identify the maker of that scarf, give them a big cup of cocoa and a big old hug after the show," he declared. Let's hope we can make that happen.

As they enterered the home straight, Hughes disappeared into the upper circle of the Olympia to embrace a wheelchair-bound survivor of the Bataclan. The band continued on stage, running out of songs and seemingly resorting to Catchling trying out some Jimmy Page-like slide riffs. No one minded.

The Olympia - one of the legendary Paris rock venues - was, for the evening, Hughes' own chapel. In television interviews he has allowed his emotions to run raw. For all his audacious shownmanship, Hughes has been seen to channel the entire band's emotion. And as frontman, he did again last night. "Let’s make a deal," he asked at one point. "This is an emotional moment for me so if I fuck this song up, ain’t no one going to get mad at me." They wouldn't. They couldn't. They didn't.

The crowd lapped up favourites like Cherry Cola, I Got a Feelin' (Just Nineteen) and Stuck In The Metal, their take on Stealer's Wheel's Stuck In The Middle With You. After an interval Hughes emerged with a custom-built guitar that had been crowd-funded in memory of the Bataclan victims. Emblazened in the French tricolour, Hughes - on his own - plucked out part of EODM's Bag O'Miracles before explaining that he'd injured a tendon in a finger, perhaps through pent-up stress. That stress became instantly released by him faithfully playing Brown Sugar unaccompanied by the band, not that anyone would notice, given the enthusiastic "woos!" from the crowd.

It was at that point that I realised - perhaps dimwittedly late in the process - that, in EODM, we had everything we'd ever enjoyed about the Rolling Stones themselves, the self-styled "greatest rock and roll band in the world": a unique frontman, outrageous guitar riffs, infectious boogie, total showmanship. If and when the Stones do pack it in, step forward their natural successor.

And at that point, it was possible to feel that the reason we were all there to begin with had disappeared into the background. Three months on, it wasn't too soon, or at least, by the show's end, it didn't feel so. But that's not for me to judge. I wasn't there on November 13. For those that were, I can only stand up and salute their consumate bravery for coming out to see the Eagles Of Death Metal again. And, I can only salute the Eagles Of Death Metal for coming back to Paris to play for them. I am amazed by those who were there last night, just as I have every inch of understanding and sympathy for those who chose not to be.

Healing doesn't come from instantaneous gratification, we know, but from this music fan, who has stood on the sidelines while people close to him have worked their way out of the tragedy, I can say that if anyone was looking for the healing power of rock'n'roll, at the Olympia in Paris last night, they would have found it. I know, I did.