Many many blue moons ago, back when I had more hair and more teeth, I was a Goth. My gateway into Goth was The Mission and my introduction to The Mission was via the rather surprising route of the late lamented pop mag Smash Hits. They loved the “mish” (as they called them) and stuck frontman Wayne Hussey on the cover in March 1987. I was entranced by dark romance of the whole thing and spent my accumulated pocket money on their debut album “God’s Own Medicine”. This sent me down a gothic rabbit hole that, whilst I don’t have the hair and clothes anymore, I am still yet to emerge from. Whilst we have gone on different paths, The mission are still a band I regular call in (choosing them over Metallica at Download 2012).

This is third time lucky for these shows, as they were originally meant to happen back in 2020 (in fact the band were nine shows in when the world went to hell in a handcart). They were also meant to herald the triumphant return of Goth also-rans The Rose of Avalanche. This is the classic mid-eighties (but pre “Never Another Sunset”) line up of Phillip Morris, Alan Davis, Glenn Schultz, Paul Berry and Mark Thompson. There must be nothing more frustrating then finally getting the band back together after twenty-eight years, only for you to be then stuck on your sofa for a further twenty-four months. Though to be honest they don’t seem that chuffed to finally be here. Call it the Yorkshire reserve or call it reformation pains, but they come across as aloof and rather indifferent to the whole endeavour of being back in the saddle. However, it is obvious that there is a small but vocal group of followers down the front, here just to witness this slightly delayed return of their heroes. 

Putting aside the ‘too cool for school’ posturing, there is still something rather charming and infectious about watching a bunch of fifty plus men recapturing their misspent youth. There is probably very little money in a niche reunion of this type, so they must be doing this for the love of the music. Paul James Berry takes up the mantle and bounces around the stage, outwardly exhibiting an unbridled joy to be playing these songs again, a joyfulness that the others are obviously hiding deep in their jet back hearts. To be fair as an ageing goth myself (who aches in the places that I used to play) it was a joyful experience for me too, to see them back together. I had just hoped they would allude some of that joy themselves, but maybe that is the goth way?

If The Rose of Avalanche are the old guard then Ist Ist are very much the new wave of British Goth. Want to know what it would have been like to see Joy Division at the Russell club back in the day? Then go see Ist Ist. Theirs is an authentic but thoroughly modern take on goth, all performed behind a curtain made up of plumbs of smoke. This creates an eerie and discombobulating experience. The music is morose and maudlin and certainly darker than anything The Mission and The Rose of Avalanche have to offer. It is also deeply hypnotic, and you find yourself drawn in by its repetitive and intoxicating nature. They are lapped up by the hometown crowd, who treat them with a level of reverence I was not expecting. Whether it is because we take care of our own here in Manchester or whether they have brought their collective nans with them, but their twisted and introverted take on this decades old genre is lapped up. My overriding feeling is one of pride and reassurance, that the baton for creating difficult and insular music that sounds like the joy being sucked out of the world, has been successfully passed onto another generation.

This has been christened the déjà vu tour for dual reason, firstly it, for a while, seemed to be the tour destined to be forever rescheduled but never fulfilled and secondly because the band have promised to revisit all areas of their back catalogue. When the “classic line up” first regrouped in 2011, they initially pledged to concentrate only on pre 1990 stuff, however as the decade long (and counting) reformation has stretched on, they have started to plunder from all iterations of the band, even those when it was Wayne on his own holding the flame.

Tonight, is all about communal indulgence as collectively the crowd baths itself in the songs that defined its teens and early twenties. These are songs we cried to, we broke up to and (very possibly) created the next generation of goths to. Each song is greeted with ecstatic joy and is sung along with gusto and crackling emotion. These songs no longer belong to Wayne, Simon and Craig, they are merely their custodians (kudos to Miles Hunt of the Stuffies who I nicked this concept off). They are now our songs, that are sown into the fabric of each and everyone of our lives. There are countless points during the set where Wayne doesn’t bother to sing, he doesn’t need to, we know the words better than him. We sing with passion and (in many cases) pain, unbridling the memories that go with these tracks.

I am overusing the word joy in this review but that is the over ridding emotion that swirls around the venue, joy. Joy as ‘Serpents Kiss’ makes a rare appearance second track in, Joy as we fight backs the tears for ‘Garden of Delights’ and joy as we collectively revel in the unrated pop genius that is ‘Like a Child Again’. This is the sort of night where you catch a strangers eye, smile and then sing along with them. There is a feeling of unity that is only achieved through shared love and adoration. We may well all unknowingly pass each other on the streets tomorrow, but tonight we are unified.

The final furlong of the main set is extraordinary and a fanboy dream, ‘Butterfly on a Wheel’ into ‘Wasteland’ into ‘Deliverance’. ‘Wasteland’ is truncated by a Dazed and Confused esque mid song breakdown as Wayne free forms about lockdown and whatever else is on his mind. For a minute it threatens to break the momentum, but as they are consummate professionals, they build back into the beauty of the main track just before it becomes tedious. ‘Deliverance’ is as wonderful as ever, an expansive anthemic designed to be chanted by a baying crowd. The obligatory dude emerges standing on his mate’s shoulders and, in a feat of athleticism that will have the England selectors calling, expertly catches Wayne’s now three quarters empty wine bottle.

The encore just ratches up the emotion. Met-Amor-Phosis maybe a fairly new addition to the song book but it is still sung with glee and with meaning. However, the place explodes in a sea of outstretched arms as the little played but much adored ‘The Crystal Ocean’ makes an appearance. The joy (that word again) on faces is hard to hide. “You know what this is” teases Wayne as they crash into the finale of ‘Tower of Strength’. As one we are melded together in a communal joy as we sing along. We have all probably heard it live a million times before but that doesn’t stop us treating it like the second coming. As I said at the start, I have caught up with The Mission many a time since they were my favourite band (1988-1990, I then discovered Carcass). It has always been pleasant but tonight was different, tonight felt special. Tonight, was not just a gig, tonight was a family reunion. Tonight, was all about reconnection with what matters, and it was glorious.