The evening started oddly, with the small queue left to stand in the biting cold a good twenty minutes after the stated 7pm start time. Did the rest of the world somehow know it was actually 7.30?
This mood continued when we were shepherded, not into the main hall of the Academy, but a kind of annexed anti-chamber, like a matt black concreted living room, empty but for two polite tables of memorabilia laid out along the back wall.
Here we stood with our plastic pints (Carlsberg £3.55) and waited... Before, with a minimum of expectation, the ridiculously named Robocop Kraus emerged, first impressions of the singer being of a German crooner in a tuxedo - part Bryan Ferry, part Blixa Bargeld.
As it was the music was excellent, the rhythm section playing with all the experience of the middle aged men they clearly were. But hey, aren't we all heading that way? And we can't all claim to be as young as some of the crowd.