Carter USM – Brixton Academy, London, 02/11/07

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Frankly, I’m surprised I didn’t wake up on Saturday morning to find the country’s entire internet system had collapsed overnight, as seemingly every 30-something (pun intended) IT worker in the land had descended on an unsuspecting Brixton for a night of beer and nostalgia the night before. Every pub for miles was overflowing with rotund and bespectacled lager drinkers talking about the good old days, when the rubbish on the radio was indeed “rubbish on the radio” and student bars around the nation bounced to the sound of Sheriff Fatman. Yes, Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine, the then-dubbed ‘Pet Shop Boys of punk’ were back in the capital, for one night only, to play one last gig. Again.

While it was hard to drag ourselves away from the fascinating, hard rockin’ pre-gig tales being bandied around the boozer (SatNav screw ups on the drive to Brixton from Surrey, babysitters turning up late etc), we headed in early to catch The Sultans of Ping. While the sound was rancid (par for the course at the Academy, really) they bashed out a crowd-pleasing set that was liberally splashed with material from their new album, and while none of the new tunes could stand up in the face of the wonderfully arrogant “Veronica”, the spiteful “Stupid Kid” and the daft “Where’s Me Jumper?” they could well grow on you over time. That said, while a merry throng pogoed like good uns up the front, and cheered with gusto, how many will translate from the star-billed Carter show to a cold, rainy night at the Half Moon in Putney is anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t as if the crowd needed an excuse to shout, “you fat bastard” at the top of its collective lungs, but Jon Fat Beast, resplendent in purple Mohican and cardboard toilet role on his cock (hilarious, I know. If you’re into that sort of thing, several people have put it on YouTube - it takes all sorts), gave it one anyway. And with the crowd baying like a pack of slightly inebriated and toothless wolves, two 40-somethings took to the stage with big, fat grins on their faces. I guess they’d already counted the entrance fees (£25 plus booking fees? Bargain).

Cynical? Me? Abso-bloody-lutely. But three bars into “Surfin’ USM” the big, fat grin was plastered all over my face too. For this was Carter, the Classic Edition – unjaded and with no industry weight on its shoulders, preaching to the converted and playing, quite literally, for fun, this was the Carter set everyone wanted to hear – even the sound was bearable (just). A good chunk of “101 Damnations”, most of “30 Something”, a bit of “1992″ and the odd sprinkling of the other ones were bolstered with a couple of classic covers (“Rent” and “This is How it Feels”) and classics like “Rubbish”. Everyone sang along and waved their arms around, there was video clips and witty (ahem) banter, and with the exception of “24 Minutes From Tulse Hill” (I thought they played it, but I was drunk, and it wasn’t on either setlist I’ve seen online since, so I’ll bow to those) pretty much every decent tune in the USM book. And while it was no surprise “The Only Living Boy in New Cross” into “Prince in a Pauper’s Grave” was the night’s biggest highlight, the so-called ‘real fans’ going bloody mental to “Sheriff Fatman” was nice. It makes a refreshing change for an indie crowd to embrace a band’s ‘pop’ hit.

So once again we bid a fond farewell to Carter. For the last time. Again. Until the next one. And they should do another one too – or this was the last gig many of this crowd will ever go to, and that would be a shame.