Music: Mr Love Pants hits his rhythm

Ian Dury and the Blockheads came out of the Essex badlands like a romp in a Cortina. Clever or what?

IN AN increasingly backward-looking music scene, the occasional reunion gigs played by Ian Dury & The Blockheads (with Madness, for instance) over the last eight years, always offered a chance to dance, party and reflect on the strengths of what the singer still calls "the best English funk band". With Dury's recently diagnosed liver cancer and the release of Mr Love Pants, the outfit's first album for 17 years, recent appearances such as last weekend's show-stealer at Paul Weller's Victoria Park concert have taken an extra urgency and added a certain poignancy.

Nostalgia is no longer the only order of the day and this rescheduled Dingwalls performance for media and GLR listeners (the BBC London station recorded the show for future broadcast) was packed to the rafters, with touts outside Camden's finest sweatbox charging up to pounds 100 for a ticket. It was nearly worth that.

A piano ripple by Chas Jankel led The Blockheads into "Wake Up And Make Love With Me" as Ian Dury was escorted to the microphone by his minder. Sporting dark shades and a white tie, the singer launched into the opening double entendre ("I come awake with a gift for womankind") and grinned as if taken aback by the warmth of the audience's reception. "Clever Trevor", also from the seminal New Boots And Panties album, took things up a notch before the band got a chance to perform some new material in the shape of the football-chant-like "Passing Show".

This established the pattern of the evening. Old faves ("Billericay Dickie", "Spasticus Autisticus") jostled with new songs full of flavour but not quite of the same vintage (though "Jack Shit George" and "Mash It Up Harry" duly took their place in Dury's gallery of cockney rogues). Ian lifted his dark glasses and mentioned a 1973 Kilburn & The High Roads gig he'd played in the same venue (then positioned in a different corner of Camden Lock). Some of the audience (pop art guru Peter Blake, veteran manager Peter Jenner) even remembered it.

"What A Waste" saw the set lose momentum, Dury struggling with a recalcitrant mike stand before making a brilliant recovery, ad libbing "how many roadies does it take to gaffer-tape a mike?" into the shopping-list lyrics. His stage demeanour conjured up the ghosts of music-hall comedians Max Wall and Max Miller, and gave a slight nod in the direction of Sex Pistol Johnny Rotten who copped his leer and leaning into the mike stance from Dury's pub-rocker days.

Bolstered by drummer Dylan Howe (son of Yes guitarist Steve Howe, replacing the late Charley Charles), but curiously without saxophonist Davey Payne, the Blockheads were as tight as ever, mining a rich jazz-funk seam which perfectly complemented Dury's unique brand of street poetry and rap. A court jester juggling with a rhyming dictionary when he's not switching into alliteration overdrive, that's our Ian.

Still, the group perversely opted not to play the three best tracks (the poignant "You're My Baby", the lush "Honeysuckle Highway", the luscious "Geraldine") from Mr Love Pants. Not to worry - all the old faves were there. "Reasons To Be Cheerful Part 3", "Sweet Gene Vincent" and "Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick" building up to a celebratory climax of "Sex and Drugs and Rock'n'Roll". With or without the crotchless knickers (yes, he wore those back in 1977!), deliciously louche, wonderfully entertaining and backed by one of the tightest bands ever, Ian Dury remains a peerless, uniquely British talent to be treasured.