With MTV officially shuttered in 2026, Duran Duran’s San Diego stop felt like a living counterargument to the idea that pop relevance expires with its platforms. At Viejas Arena, the band delivered a kinetic, visually rich performance that affirmed their status not as relics of the MTV era, but as victors who long ago transcended it.

MTV officially went dark in 2026, closing the chapter on the network that once decided what pop stardom looked like. For a generation, MTV didn’t just play Duran Duran, it made them, looping their glossy, cinematic videos into the global subconscious until the band became shorthand for a new idea of music as spectacle. Which made Duran Duran’s January 4 performance at Viejas Arena feel less like a victory lap and more like a quiet rebuttal: the platform that crowned them may be gone, but the band it built is very much alive.

From the moment the lights dropped, it was clear this wouldn’t be a nostalgia exercise. The show opened with “Velvet Newton,” a sleek, modern curtain-raiser that functioned as a statement of intent before detonating into “The Wild Boys,” still feral, still built for arenas. It was the kind of sequencing Duran Duran mastered in the MTV era - image first, impact second - but here it was executed in real time, without a camera doing the heavy lifting.

That lineage was impossible to miss. Duran Duran didn’t just benefit from MTV; they understood it earlier and better than almost anyone. Videos like Hungry Like the Wolf and Rio weren’t promotional tools so much as short films - sun-bleached, cinematic, aspirational - helping define the Second British Invasion and the New Romantic era as much through visuals as sound. At Viejas Arena, that sensibility resurfaced not as retro fetish, but as muscle memory. Throughout the night, expansive video backdrops, precision lighting cues, and tightly choreographed transitions transformed the stage into something closer to a living broadcast than a conventional concert.

The pivot into the James Bond Theme and “A View to a Kill” reinforced that point. Duran Duran didn’t just dominate pop radio; they soundtracked global spectacle. Their lone Bond entry remains one of the franchise’s most muscular themes, and live, it landed with the kind of scale and confidence that reminded you why they were once the most visible band on the planet.

At the center of it all was Simon Le Bon, tireless and sharply dressed, changing outfits and moving nonstop across the stage. If MTV once turned him into a visual icon, time has turned him into something more compelling: a frontman who understands how to command attention without chasing it. He sang with control and intention, pacing himself where it mattered and letting the songs breathe. “Hungry Like the Wolf” and “Union of the Snake” benefited from that discipline, while “Ordinary World” and “Come Undone” landed as the emotional core of the night - performed not as ritual crowd-pleasers, but as songs that have accrued gravity over decades.

Crucially, Duran Duran refused to treat their post-’80s material as contractual obligations. “(Reach Up for the) Sunrise” arrived with genuine lift, and “INVISIBLE” stood as proof that the band still writes music anchored in the present tense. Even the covers - ELO’s “Evil Woman” and Grandmaster Melle Mel’s “White Lines” - felt less like novelty than context, nodding to the band’s long-standing fluency across funk, pop, and early hip-hop.

Musically, the engine remains formidable. John Taylor’s bass anchored the entire set with groove-first authority, from “Notorious” to “Planet Earth.” Nick Rhodes sculpted atmosphere with restraint, while Roger Taylor’s drumming stayed sharp, muscular, and unfussy. When the band introductions arrived, they felt less ceremonial than declarative: this chemistry still matters.

The final stretch was unapologetically triumphant. “The Reflex” hit hard. “Girls on Film” bled seamlessly into an incredible rendition of “Psycho Killer.” The encore - “Save a Prayer” followed by “Rio” - closed the night with clarity rather than excess. “Rio” remains one of pop music’s rare perfect endings, its propulsion undiminished, its joy intact.

What made the night resonate wasn’t nostalgia, it was self-knowledge. Duran Duran understands exactly who they are, what their songs mean, and how to perform them without irony or apology. In a year when MTV itself has faded into history, their San Diego performance served as a reminder that while platforms disappear, artists who mastered the medium, and then outgrew it, can endure and thrive.

You didn’t need to grow up glued to MTV to feel it. You just had to watch.

Courtesy Sandiegoville