In October 1990, Tim Burgess stared out from the newsagents shelf on the cover of a style magazine, looking not unlike an abandoned puppy. The man was a star, girls wanted to mother him, boys wanted to be like him. His band, the story concluded, could not fail.
Time is indeed a fickle mistress, and in the week Oasis made number one, the Roses were making fools of themsleves across Europe and the music industry was gearing up to hail Shaun Ryder as a returning messiah, you could forgive the Charlatans a little cynicism. Yet the fact that their lead singer still has what were once referred to as "vibes" is remarkable, that he has them in such abundance is little short of a miracle. This band have seen fashions and scenes come and go and come again, but give or take the odd arrest, they have remained clinging steadfastly to their particular hunk of rock.
The Charlatans no longer belong to anything as fly-by-night as a scene. And so they play "The Only One I know" for possibly the 412th time in their career, Tim throws Kung fu shapes and waves his microphone Brown style - like a maraca. Sad? Most definitely not! Of course, each new Charlatans release brings with it talk of a renaissance. The simple fact is The Charlatans have never stopped being good, they just stopped meaning anything to people who buy music as a fashion accessory. But unlike, say Ride, they've never drifted into makeover, plot losing territory, distancing themselves from their supporters in the process.
Tonight is wrought with technical gremlins, leading to an hour's delay in their appearance on stage. But the loyalty of their audience and the affability of their frontman is such that any resentment from those about to miss the last bus home is easily overcome. Once "Easy Life" cranks into life The Charlatans' organ-led wall of groove pulls you under its spiralling spell.
Washed in deep red lighting Burgess patrols the stage lilke a man in grave danger of saying "In the Area". If the intention of the set is to win people back, keep them happy, or remind them exactly how many cracking songs they've got, then they achieve it with ease. "Can't Get Out of Bed" stands out as the great lost song of a generation, "Weirdo", "Jesus Hairdo" and "Then" fill heads with the clunking riffs and subtle hooks: while the high cool of "Bullet Comes" hints at a record collection with the Beastie Boys filed next to The Beatles and signals their current adoption by the Heavenly mafia.
Its probably too late for The Charlatans to join the gang currently waking America, but Britain remains a push-over.