EMF, Astoria, London

Some of that old electricity

Kevin Rowlands was one of the 500 names on the guest list for EMF's comeback show. There he was, waiting in line, going bald. But then, none of us is as sprightly as they were 11 years ago. Back then, EMF had an impish sense of humour ­ those hats, those hair extensions, that cover of "Shaddap You Face" that sounded like Joe Dolce being pushed down the stairs. They had great anecdotes, too, each one speaking volumes about what happens when a bunch of mates get famous after years of monkeying around in the Forest of Dean.

James, the babyfaced singer with the kindergarten whine, sank a bottle of scrumpy each morning for breakfast. Derry, the mad one on keyboards, taped himself having sex with a groupie, then played the cassette at the following night's show. Zak, the bassist, could fit a grapefruit down his foreskin. Or was it a pineapple? Mark, the drummer, didn't need party tricks, because he looked like he'd had a lobotomy and loved it. And there weren't any stories about Ian ­ he was the songwriter, the clever one. Mutters of approval were heard from Neil Tennant, Stephen Fry and Jonathan King, though what they saw in a bunch of oversexed, underage (back then, anyway) tearaways in short trousers, heaven only knows.

There are no shorts at Tuesday's gig, but not a lot else has changed about EMF. The most shocking difference, I suppose, is cosmetic: without his woolly hat, James is now revealed to be largely grey on top. Not a crime, but striking when combined with that cherubic face; the impression is of a baby with an ageing disorder. He is clearly chuffed to get another go on the waltzer, another lap on the dodgems. He thanks the crew individually and is heard to ask the audience: "Do you wanna hear another new song?" Oh, the naivety.

Those new compositions are aired, each of them as unwelcome and easily forgotten as a mild cramp. But it would be churlish to deny the jolts of pleasure the band send your way. "Getting Through" comes off best, its Indian-tinged guitars imposing exotic patterns on what might otherwise be a standard headbanger.

"Unbelievable" is thrown away early, perhaps in a calculated riposte to that old Baddiel and Skinner sketch, of which EMF were the butt, about bands holding back their only hit for the encore. That spot is reserved for their chewy disco epic "I Believe", with its pounding house pianos, and an impudent attack on Iggy Pop's "Search and Destroy", during which James purrs his way through lines such as: "I've got a heart full of napalm", never quite convincing you that he knows what napalm is.