Carter USM

There are plenty of ways to grow old disgracefully. You can be one of those people who just refuses to accept the ageing process and who spends most of their disposable income on Botox. You can saddle yourself with a string of high profile lovers, all unsuitable and all after your money. You can even be arrested for petty larceny, perhaps the theft of cucumbers from a big shop.

Alternatively, you can ditch your scruffy, 'worst haircut in pop, ever', look and show up for your annual reunion show in a lounge suit and sporting a bouffant hairdo – an effect which, frankly, makes you look like the lovechild of Adam Green and Julian Casablancas.

This last is, of course, how Carter's Jim Bob chooses to show up this evening. It sits slightly incongruously with everything else – the songs, the way he used to look, the fact that Fruitbat not only seems not to have aged, but could pass for the 'shy lead guitarist' role in any number of heavier pop-rock bands (Simple Plan were the band who sprang to mind). Yet it is also very Carter – always challenging, never quite what you expect them to be, yet still reassuringly familiar.

This is, of course, a return to the Carter well all know and love. Gone is the six piece of the mid-nineties. This is just Jim Bob, Fruitbat, and a whole load of technology. Tonight is all about the band's first two albums – '101 Damnations' and '30 Something'. With typical perversity, they choose to begin with the second one, cracking into 'Surfin USM' as if they had never been away.

From then on, it's a run through all of the songs that Carter fans hold most dear. We've all heard 'Sheriff Fatman' a hundred times since it was released, but there's a visceral thrill to hearing it live after so many years. From 'Second to Last Will and Testament' to the closing thrash of 'A Perfect Day to Drop the Bomb' (during which JimBob appears to get so carried away that he hits himself with his own guitar), this is one long singalong, two men preaching to the converted in the best way possible.

The best thing about tonight, though, is that it could easily be 1991 all over again (Jim Bob's attire aside, obviously). The songs don't seem to have aged at all and even the subject matter of songs such as 'Billy's Smart Circus' remains depressingly similar to the situation in 2009. The feeling is only exacerbated when the band end with superb overs of 'Bedsitter' and 'Rent'.

The final word, though, has to go to the bloke stood next to me at the bar, right as Carter launched into 'Twenty-Four Minutes From Tulse Hill', “Don't you just miss it?” he asked. Don't we all?