After all the plastic crappiness of the MTV awards, any substance in the whole shebang was provided in this after-show party, largely thanks to the wholesome tendencies of rock survivors The Charlatans. A TV bite-size performance it may have been, but it bristled with assurance and, more importantly, soul.
This is ironic, because there is quite a case to be made for The Charlatans being a load of rubbish, especially on the evidence of their live show. If they expended any less energy they would stop breathing.
Yet the naffest of the Manchester bands have honed their song-writing to a point state where their pop instincts are now flawless.
That their songs follow a template is not because of a lack of imagination; it is a sign of their method.
On this form, few bands match The Charlatans for class, or sheer Northern Soul.