Βι¶ΉΤΌΕΔ

Tonight, 'skins' is not a TV show, and the polo shirt rules supreme, as the rude boys invade the Spring and Airbrake for the return of the Beat. The Beat were always second fiddle to the Specials and Madness - darker, more political and edgier in a decade that had more than its fair share of 'edge'.

We're straight back to 1980 with the first song, 'Stand Down Margaret' - taken straight it would be toe curlingly 'right on', but vocalist Ranking Roger (joined on stage by his son Roger Junior) injects enough humour and energy into the performance to make that irrelevant. It's the first big weekend of the summer and the audience are buoyed up by the dose of sun, a fact Roger milks for all it's worth.

There's never enough dancing at gigs. Sure you can wiggle your bot to the likes of, say, a 2 Many Dj's set, but at a proper gig the default 'one arm over the chest, other holding a pint' manoeuvre comes into play. Which is why from the very first beat, it's great to see the audience filling the floor with all sorts of energetic moves.

It's a good natured crowd as well - there's no crash barrier, the bouncers are bouncing to the rhythm and punters approach the stage for handshakes - Roger beckoning one over to help share vocal duties, and shaking hands with one over-enthusiastic skin-head.

"Wow" he says, "30 years ago shaking hands with a skin was such a big deal for me. There's a lot of love here - lets keep it going." And they do. There's no new material, no let up in the bands back catalogue of hits and pieces. It doesn't seem to matter that the venue is half empty - it just means more room for dancing as the beer spills and sweat flows, big grins plastered on faces young and old.

There's an almost tropicalia version of the Clash's 'Rock the Casbah' thrown in about halfway through the set which, just when the crowd were flagging, inspires a second wind. Then there's the originals, overlooked classics like 'Hands Off She's Mine' and 'Big Shot'.

The sound is note perfect, with the bass clean as a nut and tight up front, set off by the unmistakable backing of percussion legend Everett Morton. A band like this can only sound so loose with years of experience, and at several points they turn the music on a sixpence, moving from energetic skanks through to mellow grooves.

Then the place goes wild for 'that song', 'Mirror in the Bathroom'. It's dark, it's danceable and it goes down a storm. For the encore Ranking Junior takes to the mic, for a freestyled, almost junglist toast, over his father's percussion, revealing a huge talent in his own right. It's been a great show, but just remember, if you stare at the rude boys for long enough, the rude boys stare back at youΓ―ΒΏΒ½

Shane Horan