In the nine years since the Verve stalked British stages, the pop landscape has changed beyond recognition. Today's charts are full of sharp, fast songs with narrated vocals delivered in street patois, as opposed to epic meandering jams that combine north-west urban realism with space rock. And that, it could be argued, is why there is still a place for the Verve.
The Wigan quartet were not only one of Britain's biggest 1990s bands but also one of the most adventurous. Their first album, 1993's A Storm in Heaven introduced what vocalist Richard Ashcroft dubbed "music of the spheres", followed by the unit-shifting A Northern Soul and Urban Hymns.Fuelled by the kind of substances that convince rock stars to make demented claims (Ashcroft, for instance, insisted he could fly), it was no surprise when they ran acrimoniously aground in 1999. Until their return was announced in June, a Verve reunion seemed as likely as Ashcroft flapping his arms and ending up in Siberia - not least because the quartet are drug-free, monied and two of them sport sensible hats.
In Blackpool, there was a feeling that once the Verve plugged in, they could end up absolutely anywhere. Ashcroft's spoken introduction - "This is a tale of a northern soul" - began a two-hour blast into the corners of their catalogue: a vicious Rolling People from Urban Hymns, a cavernous, almost-reggae Already There dedicated to "all those who supported us during A Storm in Heaven". Implausibly, the ageless band sounded better players than before, with Simon Jones's dub bass, Pete Salisbury's jazzier drums and Nick McCabe's raging psychedelic guitar unleashing a psychic barrage. Ashcroft, who seemed so isolated as a solo star, seemed reborn into the role of shaman. Between songs, banter between singer and guitarist suggested the only tension is in the music. As fervour grew, they delved into the more song-oriented side of their history with The Drugs Don't Work and, well, History. Ashcroft referenced Bittersweet Symphony's steal from the Rolling Stones with a cheeky quip: "Mick and Keith owe us a drink." But the new Sit and Wonder suggested the Verve have a colourful future: a huge, lolloping groove with rite of passage lyrics, it showed they still touch places almost no other band can reach.
· At the Roundhouse, London, on Thursday. Box office: 0870 389 1846. Then touring. A version of this review appeared in later editions of yesterday's paper.
