I was only seven years old when The Specials released their debut single, 'Gangsters'. Two years, two numbers ones and a Thatcher-baiting-era-defining album later, they had split up, but had managed to leave an impression on fashion and music that has lasted to this day (no, Lily Allen did not invent ska).

 

A reunion tour with pretty much the full lineup except Terry Hall's co-writer Jerry Dammers made this a big draw for anyone the wrong side of 30, and a rainy windswept evening wasn't about to dampen spirits. I've rarely seen the Brighton Centre so busy, the floor and balcony packed solid. All manner of mods, skins & fashion-victim voyeurs had turned out (Imagine if the BNP took some happy pills and held a fancy dress party in Schwarz bar by accident) on a Thursday night to see a bunch of blokes in their 50's play some souped-up reggae. What gives?

 

Well as soon as the lights dimmed and the band take the stage we realise why we're here. Terry Hall is still a grumpy old bugger but the rest jump around the stage like they're still in their twenties without it seeming contrived or embarrassing. You get pretty much everything from their early two albums and the crowd went crackers for the whole period, but it's the old favourites 'Monkey Man', 'Gangsters', 'Rudy, A Message to You' and 'Too Much Too Young' that prompt even more intense pogoing and beer throwing (am I the only one thats over that now?). It was a great, loony night, the bar ran out of beer, the staff looked a bit shellshocked and the punters looked sixteen again for a couple of hours.

 

Encores of 'Ghosttown' and 'You're Wondering Now' ensured everyone left happy. Thirty years on The Specials are still electric, and somehow weirdly relevant.