Hans Zimmer: A place where the music is limitless and the composer might just heckle you on the way out

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (5/5)

**HANS ZIMMER PERFORMING AT GLASGOW’S OVO HYDRO**
**PHOTOCREDIT: STUART WESTWOOD**

Hans Zimmer’s The Next Level tour arrived at Glasgow’s OVO Hydro with the force of a cinematic supernova. Where some of his previous tours leaned heavily into orchestral grandiosity, this show shifted—less traditional orchestra, a little more synth, and a whole lot of electricity. Zimmer stood at the centre of a maze of wires, keyboards, lights, and tech, as though we’d stumbled straight into his studio on a night when every idea sparked at once. The effect was intentional: an invitation into the vast technological ecosystem required to summon his sound worlds. It was also visually thrilling—Zimmer, surrounded by machines, shredding and smiling alongside his bandmates, like a delighted engineer of emotion.

The evening opened with the thunderous darkness of The Dark Knight, instantly twisting the room into a knot of tension. Zimmer is a mad scientist of feeling—he can summon dread, hope, heartache, or awe at will, and in those first minutes he reminded us of just how deeply his work has seeped into the cultural psyche. A punk-country-western reimagining of Dune’s “Paul’s Dream” followed, one of several pieces throughout the night that Zimmer and his band reinvented with playful audacity. These sat alongside tracks presented in their original cinematic form, offering a balanced blend of reverence and experimentation.

A standout section came with Man of Steel. Watching the building of the composition was like watching the world’s most beautiful jigsaw puzzle assemble itself in real time. Each musical fragment locked into place, expanding and rising until the sound felt almost architectural. A violin tore up and down its register like a turbo-powered steam train before building in a guitar solo, Zimmer watched his guitarist—Guthrie Govan, a Scottish local with a degree in English literature and a global reputation as one of the finest guitarists alive—with pure, childlike joy. Zimmer cheered him on as though he were his biggest fan.

What became clear as the night unfolded was how deeply Zimmer values the people he plays with. Despite their being at around 25 musicians on stage, he introduced each with warmth, admiration, and humour, speaking not only about their artistry but about their kindness and character. It felt genuine—this was a man who sees his ensemble as a family. One member of that family was Nile Marr, son of Johnny Marr and named after Nile Rodgers. Zimmer teased him for playing the banjo, but the camaraderie onstage was unmistakable.

The Sherlock Holmes suite continued to showcase the ensemble’s tightness—sometimes moving in perfect synchrony, sometimes duelling with themselves in intricate musical twists. Zimmer took a brief pause to tell a story about a 9 a.m. call from Ridley Scott, which introduced the incredible Gladiator finale. The appearance of Lisa Gerrard elevated the performance into something mythic. The movie scores feature Gerrard’s own invented language, the “language of the heart,” which she has used since childhood. Hearing it live was spellbinding.

After an intermission—the audience genuinely needing time to recover—the second half burst open with Pearl Harbor, then surged into a synth-heavy Formula 1 sequence before one of the emotional high points: Interstellar. Zimmer shared the story of how Christopher Nolan gave him a tiny fragment of narrative and asked him to compose without revealing the film’s premise. Zimmer wrote something gentle about the love for his son; Nolan told him he had found the heart of the movie. As the pieces unfolded, an acrobat dressed as a human disco ball soared to the roof of the Hydro, spinning in celestial arcs while the score swelled. It was a moment that transcended concert spectacle and tipped into pure art.

A joyous Lion King celebration followed, featuring Lebo M and his daughter, before the unmistakable swagger of Pirates of the Caribbean. Zimmer gleefully heckled the audience members who tried to slip out early—imagine being heckled by Hans Zimmer himself—and then returned for a heavy-metal encore of “The Kraken” and other Pirates themes.

He closed the night with “Time” from Inception, a piece that has become almost sacred in his catalogue. As it built, the sheer scale of talent, discipline, and passion onstage felt overwhelming. Yet for its entire spectacle, the concert was warming, funny, human. Zimmer’s band felt like one living organism, with Zimmer himself as its beating heart.

A flawless, unforgettable night of musical magnificence.