There was a time when The Jam seemed to have been airbrushed from history. Never quite eulogised in the way of their contemporaries and perhaps not helped by Paul Weller's hasty termination of the band and seeming desire to distance himself from its memory.
Yet, at their height, they forged a unique connection with Britain's youthful masses through thoughtful prose and powerful tunes. And we all know which songs get the biggest reaction at Weller shows.
From The Jam features original and evergreen Jam bassist Bruce Foxton and, through them, we can come out of the closet and reconnect with Weller's wonderful body of work.
The set is built on 1979's Setting Sons. The album was loosely conceptual, musically ambitious and widely regarded as the band's best despite the presence of lesser known Jam tunes.
They start with the telephone ring introducing first track Girl on the Phone. After so long, some of these songs seem almost forgotten. But, tunes like Private Hell and Little Boy Soldiers are burned deep into the sub-conscious and awaken our memories.
Words involuntarily emerge from our throats as we sing along.
Foxton's own finest moment, Smithers-Jones, gets a good reaction. And impressive singer-guitarist Russell Hastings stamps a little of himself on to Eton Rifles with some nice guitar pyrotechnics.
Then it's album closer, Heatwave, a Martha Reeves and the Vandellas cover via The Who.
With Setting Sons complete, Hastings declares "That's enough of the slow stuff" and the night shifts gear as the band run through a clutch of Jam classics sending the crowd into a dancing, bouncing, fist pumping frenzy. Its a euphoric mood.
Things get a little tense thanks to the unwelcome return of Terry Hall's beer slinging nemesis. But Going Underground, Strange Town, David Watts, Beat Surrender and all the rest, restore the celebratory mood with Bruce out front leaping around despite a dodgy, steroid boosted knee which caused the cancellation of the previous night's show in Norwich.
His spiky hair, sharp suit and slim frame are all, thankfully, still in good order. And his standing as one of our great complementary vocalists is still intact no better illustrated than on Strange Town with perfect, siren-like back up.
The climatic call to 'break it up, break it up' is a perfect high point.
Encores of Down in the Tube Station, To Be Someone and A Town Called Malice close the night and the now, not so youthful masses make their curfew imposed exit so the children can stay up late. But they're happy to have seen the continued restoration of a musical legacy by a band who are no tribute act.
Because this was from The Jam. And didn't we have a nice time.
