The bloke in the chip shop inquires just who we are going to see at the Arena.

"My mother used to like them," he replies to my confession that it is Roxy Music.

I get out of it by nodding in the direction of the missus - making out I'm being forced to go on pain of death.

Not true. Somewhere at home I have several singles (rrp 68p circa 1979/1980) and a couple of albums. But then teenage angst meant I deserted the slick haired, slick voiced Bryan Ferry for proper music, such as erm, Motorhead, Judas Priest and Twisted Sister.

Inside the Arena, I am feeling old. The women are draped in jewellery and the blokes show off their Greenwoods threads.

The fact that I thoroughly enjoy Roxy Music, despite thoughts of what else I could have done with the £32.50 ticket price and the inhumane plastic seating, is a great testimony to them.

They trawl through tracks from their eight albums and scatter the set with single successes such as Jealous Guy, More Than This and Avalon.

What struck me is just how good they are. Ferry still hits the spot with his vocals - nice to see a man of his age in leather trousers - while guitarist Phil Manzanera and saxophonist Phil Mackay ooze pure musical genius.

The cynic in me deplores bands which emerge from retirement to plug greatest hits CDs. But whatever their motive, Roxy Music were seriously good, whatever the bloke in the chip shop may think.