For a band who have taken up the nu-metal mantle and twisted its trademark adolescent whine into more sophisticated rock musings, Linkin Park talk like hippies. "What a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful crowd of people," singer Chester Bennington swoons, eyeing the sea of Nirvana and Slipknot T-shirts with admiration.
But then Linkin Park are the nihilistic band that your parents not only approve of but sing along to, judging by the number of fathers accompanying kids throwing tiny fists in the air. Debut album Hybrid Theory has sold five million copies, its introspective songs and sanitised hip-hop influences - look Mum, no swearing! - courting mainstream appeal. The brooding menace and blood-curdling yells of Runaway are merely a call to jump up and down, thousands of heads simultaneously arched towards the ceiling in a desperate attempt to take flight. Points of Authority, knee-deep in scratches and swathed in strobe lighting, is a lively lesson in resentment.
Lyrically, Linkin Park's universal themes of injustice, depression and paranoia appeal to fed-up teens and stressed-out admin assistants alike. In Bennington the band has a singer who plays the white-vest wearing, angst-ridden rocker - but with the voice of a Backstreet Boy. Gentle and lush one moment, full-throttle death rattle the next, Bennington's vocals bring an air of pop professionalism to the band, while the jaunty rap and gesticulations of Mike Shinoda add credibility. The interplay between melody, menace and Shinoda's verbal pyrotechnics works well, intensity co-existing with easy confidence.
While Bennington bends and jumps on to each of the three raised boxes that comprise the band's stage set, Shinoda engages the audience in arm-waving antics and instructs them in crowd control. The atmosphere of giddy excitement quickly boils over into over-enthusiastic pushing, and when Papercut starts, Shinoda spots some victims. "Hold up," he calls to the band, before addressing the crowd. "People watch yourselves. When someone falls, what do you do?" he asks. A collective shout of "Pick 'em up!" is the reply. "I care more about every one of you in the crowd than I do about the show," Bennington chips in, before launching into Papercut once more.
Linkin Park like to put on a show, however. The energy level never drops as they throw themselves enthusiastically around the stage; the fragile melancholy of My December is lost on those who merely want to bounce. One Step Closer gives them their chance, bass player Phoenix and guitarist Brad Delson jumping in time to the crashing chords before more than 12,000 voices make their final declaration: "Shut up!"