And then there were two...
With the scarcely lamented demise of Suede and Shed Seven the only inhabitants alive in the Britpop graveyard are its original dinosaurs: Oasis and Blur. At one point even that looked unlikely. Such was the ferocity of the 1995 'Country House' Vs 'Roll With It' chart battle it looked like one would surely tear the other limb from limb - the lumbering northern beatlesaurus against the lightweight southern mockneyraptor.
A year later, Oasis appeared to have lost the battle but won the war. Blur had their number one but it was the Gallagher brothers who sold out Knebworth twice in a champagne supernova (whatever that was) and sold about a billion albums.
Not that you'd know it now. Oasis have been cryogenically frozen in designer togs ever since - their masterplan consisting of about two ideas - while Blur have looked ever outwards for inspiration. Tonight's gig, which runs the gamut of their career from 'She's So High' to 'Out Of Time' - from art punk to Tangier-tinged ballads - is testament to just how convergent their paths have run. Opening with the droning hum of 'Ambulance' its like Britpop never happened. And, as those who've witnessed an Oasis gig in the last few years will know, this is a good thing.
It's immediately apparent just how many great songs Albarn & co have written - the still-thrilling discoid bounce of 'Girls & Boys', the wonky gospel of 'Tender', the soaring fragility of 'Beetlebum'. And that's within the first six songs. The rest of the set pulls together the convergent threads of their career with ease from 'Good Song' to 'Caravan' to 'Music Is My Radar' to 'This Is A Low'. Each could be the product of a different band entirely yet each is totally (B)lurred.
The loss of Graham Coxon has hardly dampened their sound. In fact, by replacing their lynchpin guitarist with three backing vocalists, Simon Tong from The Verve and an extra drummer it would be churlish to say that Blur 2003 are not a musically enhanced model.
Even the 'strike a light' appearance of Phil 'Geezer' Daniels for an impromptu encore of 'Parklife' - which turns The Coronet into a beery wedding reception - doesn't break the spell. It merely highlights how far ahead of the pack they've moved. The days of dog tracks and crap Damien Hirst videos are but distant memories.
They end with the triumphant chorus of 'The Universal' and barely have to sing a word. Unlike most of their contemporaries Blur are still making it happen.
