We're in politically dark days. Today Australians had to watch Malcolm Turnbull acquiesce to Donald Trump's nonsense like the spineless jellyfish man that he is. If that nonsense lit a spark, tonight Green Day's politically charged three-hour set blew that spark into an inferno.

As the clock ticks down to show time, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody booms through the speakers. You truly haven't appreciated that song until you have heard it yelled by a stadium teaming with buzzed punters. A very dirty looking pink bunny bounces across the stage to Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop before the house lights dim, and Green Day immediately launch into Know Your Enemy. It's a live wire of an opener, punctuated by the first of several guest artists plucked from the crowd. While the young woman who is pulled up gives it her all, her efforts to stage dive sink like a stone... literally. 

Holiday sees frontman Billie Joe Armstrong throw down the first of many, many scathing shirtfronts directed precisely at President (and that is still difficult to type) Trump. Armstrong's vocals are strong, where many of his peers have blown out, and they do not waver for the duration of the show. Longview satiates the long-time fans, and Mike Dirnt's crunchy bass line (special mention to his spectacular bass face) is just as catchy now as it was in 1994. The stadium-shaking tune sees a pile of bones in a Descendents T-shirt, once again pulled from the crowd, take over on lead vocals and just about steal the show. His stage dive is significantly more successful than the last. 

Hitchin' A Ride is a green light for a gnarly looking circle pit, spurred on by Tre Cool's relentless drums, and When I Come Around is full of nostalgic goodness, almost tearing the roof off. Armstrong plays a mean guitar solo, behind his head no less, though he manages to knock over his microphone in the process. Not to worry, the audience is more than happy to step in on vocal duties. The assembled masses bend to the band's every will - be it hands up or backing vocals. Green Day have come a long way from scrappy Californian punks to larger than life showmen in their own right. 

A medley including but not limited to Shout, Hey Jude, and Monty Python's Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life allows the band to loosen up a little, and it's a rollicking romp complete with a saxophone versus kazoo breakdown. From the stage on which he is lying Armstrong declares, "We deserve something better, no more lies, no more corruption," which while at odds with the madcap nature of medley, is nonetheless true. 

Still Breathing from Green Day's latest offering Revolution Radio is an empowering battle cry, hitting a chord with the churning sea of punters as fists fly skyward. American Idiot takes on a new urgency and seems more relevant than ever. The show's magnum opus, however, is the sublime Jesus Of Suburbia. Clocking in at close to ten minutes, it's a spine-tingling sight to behold live in all of its glory, and the crowd reaction is explosive. Having spent the night running from one side of the stage to the other, perching on the catwalk, and commanding the full attention of all in attendance, Armstrong plays perennial favourite Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) with no pomp or circumstance, allowing the song to stand alone and proudly in its own beauty. Unsurprisingly, the response from the audience is deafening applause. Somewhat more surprising is the simple bow the band takes as they leave the stage for the final time.

Tonight is stadium rock at its best yet, and Green Day brought more than slick stage presence and brilliant production values, they brought heart. As the world edges uncomfortably towards division, the message echoing throughout the arena was one of inclusiveness, unity, and above all - hope.