The Specials @ O2 Academy, 28 April

Too much time has been spent discussing what the Specials aren’t in their 2009 incarnation, and too little on what they are. Sure, they aren’t quite complete - a fact that a displeased Jerry Dammers has made clear in his ongoing public huff. And they certainly aren’t spring chickens - it’s twenty eight years since they first called it a day, and few can expect to emerge from such a lengthy break without it showing. They are, however, an extremely in-demand ticket, as swathes of touts and security testify. Tonight is long sold-out, and inside it feels even busier due to the middle-age girth padding out many a squat fan.

After a protracted ska-raoke session whips the rude boys into a full-throated frenzy, the Specials emerge, and from Do the Dog onwards they’re flawless. Lean and energetic, they exude the vitality of a band fresh out the blocks, without a trace of the in-it-for-the-money cynicism that too often taints reunion shows. It’s remarkable that a band who only existed for three years and two albums can play a twenty-plus song set without a shred of filler: Gangsters, Concrete Jungle, Little Bitch, Monkey Man (dedicated to the Academy’s security staff, naturally) - classic after classic ensures the skanking doesn’t let up for a moment. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, I’ll be twenty nine,” Hall deadpans after a breezy Message to You Rudy, but by this point in the night few are concerned with such trivialities as age. Ghost Town (currently soundtracking countless credit crunch news bulletins) brings the main set to a close, before an encore culminating in Enjoy Yourself ensures everyone does just that.

So they aren’t the complete original line-up and they aren’t as young as they used to be. But they are the Specials. And that’s more than enough on its own.