Moody Blues Apollo, Manchester
Well, isn't life strange? Four old fellers take the stage with nothing new to offer - and the result is a triumph.
This was the opening of a British tour which celebrates 30 years in rock and their longevity was reflected in the audience.
There was a chap in front with less hair than me wearing an Aran sweater. And I swear in front of him was a guy in a suit! Meanwhile behind, one devotee spoke of "John & Justin" like they were his cousins.
Three decades may have turned the records a little familiar and cosy, but this show freshened them up beyond belief and set them alive and kicking again.
OK, so The Moody Blues are no boy band. Graeme Edge sports a long grey beard, Ray Thomas, dances like everyone's dad, and John Lodge could be a football manager.
Of the four, Justin Hayward, with his shy, Oliver Twist looks, has weathered the best.
They are helped out by an assistant drummer, two keyboard players, and two female vocalists to supply the top range - and the sway of the hips now beyond the musicians themselves.
It is hard to imagine how stuff so old can sound so good.
By the time they reached I'm Just a Singer (In A Rock and Roll Band), the fans were on another planet. Night in White Satin still sends a shiver down the spine and Thomas's flute conversation with keyboards during Timothy Leary is a revelation.
The office wisdom here had been that there could well be more seats than bums at the Apollo.
In fact, they sold out and it was a privilege to be there. Perhaps they could come back after the tour and play Nynex?
Alan Salter
© The Manchester Evening News
NB Timothy Leary should read Legend of a Mind, but I didn't write the article.