So... as the mortgage bills pile up, another band reform... and this time it's The Verve. Now, for anyone grumbling at my use of 'The' in the band name, please go away now... I'm firmly on the side of the jazz label that's been around for a lot longer than a bunch of chest-beaters from Wigan. Y'see, I like bands who have a bit of arrogance... it makes it fun... The New York Dolls without arrogance doesn't bear thinking about. However, your arrogance needs to be well placed... and record sales don't always make a great band.

Many fans of Richard Ashcroft & Co will tell you of the beauty of The Verve's LPs... but as beauty is subjective (ie, I don't like 'em so tough) that goes out of the window. So what is next? Well, they will then tell you of the massive shows they've played... the vast number of records sold... but Mr Blobby went to number one and Robbie Williams filled a Knebworth field. The fact is, The Verve got lucky and hit their stride slap bang in the middle of Britpop, seeing them go from indie miserablists to all conquering rock gawds. Sadly for The Verve, their mawkish symphonies left the door open for The Little Book of Calm groups (Coldplay, Keane)... and when you hear The Drugs Don't Work... it's hard not to be pithy and say "they do... if you don't stick 'em up your arse..."

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