After politely declining his kind offer of party membership, I made my way back to the table through a throng of people who d all been at the show themselves. They were buzzing. Sure, there were a few activists (horrible word the antonym is much better) present, but it was civilians and young ones at that making the most noise. The entire bar seemed flushed with adrenaline and wide-eyed enthusiasm.
Mark Hamilton who, off-stage, normally displays all the zeal of a goal-post, looked like he d just been cast in a Star Wars prequel, while Charlotte Hatherley was telling anyone that would listen that dad had just been watching her on telly in Australia.
I d toyed with the idea of going to see The Verve in Dublin that night. The concept of Ash and U2 performing a political concert didn t strike me as being particularly appetising. I can t say that the prospect of watching David Trimble and John Hume performing a duet of Pride (In The Name Of Love) , held much appeal.
But within a minute or two of walking through the doors of The Waterfront, I couldn t really imagine anywhere else I d rather be. In fact, I couldn t imagine anywhere else I could be.
Ash were amazing. Their set was ragged and, in places, obviously under-rehearsed, but it was also one of the most romantic performances I d ever (or have ever) seen. The Punk Beach Boys tag never seemed to wash before that, mainly because it was coined with the image of Iggy singing on Pet Sounds, and Tim and Co were just too well scrubbed and nice to remind you of that. Amazingly, though, during the course of their set, an alternative interpretation sprang to mind. There was a ragged urgency to them that you would never have guessed before, something that made you think they were desperately trying to hold onto their idealism. It wasn t the Stooges singing Wouldn t It Be Nice ; it was early PiL trying to rip through Surf s Up . And for that occasion it was the most spookily appropriate chord that they could have struck. Daring to be uncertain. Angry, vulnerable, and facing very much forward.
And all this from the mob that wrote Kung Fu .
I was converted. Prone as I am to shockingly inverted snobbery, Tim, Mark and Rick always seemed to me like boys from the right side of the tracks who were trying too hard. And 1977 had far too many dodgy metal solos to qualify as the teen-pop epic it was said to be. But that show displayed a depth to the band that anyone who saw them dripping in paint and singing about alien girlfriends would never have imagined.
Nu-Clear Sounds came out a few months later to a mixed critical and commercial reaction. Listening to it now, it sounds like a brave leap forward mixing dirty CBGB s new wave, with the kind of effortlessly winsome melancholia that Tim nails almost as convincingly as Gerry Love and Michael Head. Right now, Brian
Molko would give up his life supply
of hair lacquer for an album as good
as it. But it seemed to get lost in the fall-out of Brit Pop and the only
sensible approach was to head for
the hills for a while, and prepare for
the next, and maybe most important, assault.
The week before Christmas is perfect for sneaking sly previews of future goodies. So, it s good to see that Ash are coming back for a few gigs. To show us what we ve been missing and what we can look forward to. Polite as ever, they re re-introducing themselves first, but, once they get in the swing of things, don t be surprised if they start going mad again. Because they, more than any other band we have, can do it. 2001, after all, would be a great time to start another odyssey.

Ash play The Nerve Centre in Derry on December 20th and Belfast s The Limelight on the 21st.