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"I've just smiled at Mark E. Smith" said Donna Donnelly as she came back from the bar. "Did he smile back?" I asked. "No" she replied. And it's not hard to see why he might not be in the best of moods...after keeping us guessing for ages with an interminable abysmal intro tape, the band came on and played two songs without him. Perhaps he's so pissed he's sacked himself? But no, he ambled on, barked what might've been a greeting, switched the mic for one in his pocket and proceeded to deliver a barrage of tuneless, incomprehensible mumblings as the band made a glorious noise, all set-square angles and spiky bass rumblings. Smith was on and off the stage, singing from the dressing room, messing around with amp settings, swapping mics and generally being himself until, one song into the encore, the band stopped playing and walked off. Smith shouted something about the revolution and followed them before, bizarrely, they all trooped back out again almost immediately and carried on.
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