I still get that jitter in my veins thinking about walking up to Budweiser Stage on May 23, 2025. It was one of those nights where everything in the air felt charged—neon lights glinting off leather jackets, groups of punks and rock revivalists chanting song lyrics while in line, the scent of concert-season Toronto mixing with burgers and beer stands. I’d been geeking out for weeks, playing Rebel Yell and White Wedding on repeat, trying to psych myself up for the real deal. And when I finally pushed through those gates, I felt like a kid who had snuck backstage—only this was better, because I was about to see idol, punk legend, and rock snarl incarnate: Billy Idol.
Stage & Production
The stage at Budweiser was set for rock royalty. It had that open-air amphitheater vibe that Toronto summers do best: intimate but still massive, with the city skyline peeking just beyond the lights. Lighting rigs spanned out like a spider web above, ready to snap to electric white and neon reds every time the beat hit. Video screens flank the stage showing edgy, retro footage—torn-up magazines, leather boots, spiky hair—then cut seamlessly into closeups of Billy’s sneer as he played.
No overload of theatrics here—Billy’s got swagger, not stunts. The gear was minimalist-cool: mic stand adorned with scarves, Steve Stevens’s guitar rig perched dangerously close to the edge, and fog machines ready to give everything that gritty, punk-rock edge. It all felt raw but intentional, enough flash to make it cinematic, enough grit to stay true to that ’80s spirit.
Setlist & Performance
The night roared into life with a triple medley—Rebel Yell, Eyes Without a Face, White Wedding—a familiar rush that crushed into the crowd before Billy even said a word. Then he dove into a gut-kicking, no-frills setlist that took us on a pulse-pounding ride through decades of rock anthems.
Here’s how it rolled:
Setlist – Billy Idol at Budweiser Stage, Toronto – May 23, 2025
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Intro medley: Rebel Yell / Eyes Without a Face / White Wedding (excerpts)
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Still Dancing
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Cradle of Love
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Steve Stevens Guitar Solo
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Flesh for Fantasy
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77
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Too Much Fun
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Eyes Without a Face
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Steve Stevens Guitar Solo (Over the Hills and Far Away / Stairway to Heaven / Eruption)
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Mony Mony (Tommy James & the Shondells cover)
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Dream Into It
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Love Don’t Live Here Anymore (Rose Royce cover, duet with Kitten Kuroi)
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Ready Steady Go (Generation X song)
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Blue Highway / Top Gun Anthem
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Rebel Yell
Encore:
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Dancing With Myself (Generation X song)
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Hot in the City
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People I Love
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White Wedding
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Jean Genie (David Bowie cover)
Highlights
There are so many moments I want to bottle up in my mind. When Billy dropped into Still Dancing early on, that steady pulse of synth and grit felt like electricity in my veins—like I’d time-traveled back to an ’80s punk club, only bigger and brighter. Cradle of Love brought out the crowd’s energy, everyone singing like they owned the place.
Steve Stevens stole breath mid-show. His solo was part jam session, part magician’s sleight of hand—twisting from Over the Hills and Far Away into a ripping Stairway to Heaven riff, then collapsing into a raw-edged Eruption. I don’t know how someone plays that many guitar myths in one go, but Stevens made it look like lunch break practice.
Love Don’t Live Here Anymore as a duet with Kitten Kuroi was unexpected and moving. She poured soul into every line, and Billy gave way to vocal chemistry I didn’t realize he still nursed. Then, Ready Steady Go got the punks singing along with that rebellious sneer—the energy elbowed upward.
But Rebel Yell… man. The closer took a sharp incline—the beat, the bass, the street-corner chant-along… it blurred into pure adrenaline.
Encore time and out came Dancing With Myself, turning the amphitheater into a rock mob. Hot in the City and People I Love followed, building like waves. White Wedding felt like a personal invitation to join his unapologetic world. And when he finally dropped Jean Genie, it felt like a wink to us all—rockers always remember their roots.
Crowd Energy
Toronto came alive that night. Every heart was synced to Billy’s beat. Leather and denim ruled the night. People fought to get closer, raising fists, starting rock yells during Rebel Yell and Dancing With Myself. Women in broken-in band tees sang backup, dudes mosh-nodded between verses, entire friendship groups held onto each other through chorus after chorus of Love Don’t Live Here Anymore.
There were little moments—in the sea of people, I found myself next to a pair of teens lip-syncing “Rebel Yell” word for word, eyes bright. Someone behind me mumbled, “This is as alive as rock ever gets,” and I nodded hard, sweat and adrenaline rolling down.
Vocals & Musicianship
Billy still has the voice—gravel-and-honey when he sings Love Don’t Live Here Anymore, snarling and wild on Rebel Yell. He danced around the mic with that sneer, snarling lines through clenched teeth. Even the slower parts kept that edge.
Steve Stevens—guitar wizard. He wasn’t just shredding; he was storytelling. Every lick had mood swings, every note pulled at the crowd’s hair. His solos were chaotic poetry—textbook riffs mashed with rapid-fire breakneck speed.
Rhythm section punched. Bass bumped in your chest. Drums thundered like the ground was gonna give way. The band vibed around Billy—they weren’t just backing him up; they were co-driving the night.
Personal Reflection
I can’t even begin to explain the high I walked out on. My ears rang. My throat was gone. I had air guitar callouses. But I grinned all the way home. Something can’t be taught or staged—there’s a purity to artists who’ve been around long enough to drop arrogance and own what they are. That night, Billy Idol wasn’t performing for us—he was working with us, and we were living that rock moment together.
I’ve seen big shows, but this was different. It was sweat, sing-alongs, gritty riffs, that beautiful sneer timing. I left feel-so-alive tired, chasing that buzz for days, and honestly kind of missing that stage.
Conclusion
This wasn’t just a Billy Idol concert—it was a blast-from-the-past rocket launched through time, straight into a Toronto summer night. The setlist was vintage but not stale—every track had heart and attitude, from the opener to that Bowie nod with Jean Genie. It was punk nostalgia with grown up precision, joy, and warmth.
He didn’t just play the hits—he owned them. Steve Stevens didn’t just shred—he inspired. The crowd wasn’t just spectators—they were family. That night, Billy didn’t just revive classics—he made them breathe again. It was one of those rock-history moments that sticks with you.