G Live

Fantastic intimate venue, comfy seats and Alfie Boe was Bringing him home

We went to see The Happy Mondays. This felt like something I should have done in 1990, but here we are. G Live is the kind of venue that doesn't make a fuss about itself, which I respect. Good sightlines, decent sound, somewhere to buy a pricey drink. The Farm opened, and they were tighter than you'd expect from a band whose greatest moment involves a football terrace and a century of conflict, and "Altogether Now" still did something quietly remarkable to a room full of people who probably shouldn't be staying out this late. Then the Mondays arrived, reliably dishevelled, Shaun Ryder delivering the whole thing with the detached enthusiasm of a man reading a gas meter he finds mildly interesting. And then there is Bez. Bez is not decoration but, in some way that resists explanation, load-bearing. He has admitted himself that these days it is more creaky dancing than freaky dancing, which only makes it more compelling, distracting and irritating to watch. G Live held it all without blinking. The roof stayed on. If you're considering it, I wouldn't talk you out of it.