I always tell anyone that will listen that the Pixies at Aston Villa in 1991 is probably the best gig I've ever been to - but now I may have to re-assess.
It sounds like an overstatement, but since the feeling I had on Wednesday morning has not dissipated much over the past three days, it looks like one I may be prepared to stand by in years to come.
Obviously the line-up helped. Three of my favourite bands; one already legendary, one who seemed destined to become so, and one great pop band. It had enough potential to make me consult Easyjet and price some flights four weeks ago - finding them so cheap made me take the plunge. In retrospect, double the price would now still seem like a bargain.
So there we were, taking the S-Bahn out to the eastern suburb of Wuhlheide. The setting is an outdoor, bowl-shaped arena similar in design to the one in Milton Keynes (scene of another personally memorable time back in 1995 by REM) but much more compact. Beer is in ready supply, unsurprising since the arena is sponsored by a local Brauerei, and men even walk around with barrels of the stuff strapped to their backs in order that you can partake without you even leaving your vantage point - and it is supped from the cutest plastic mini-tankards.
It's a ridiculously early start for Franz Ferdinand. 6pm sharp, and the four, floppy-fringed fops enter the fray, as the not-even-close-to capacity crowd storm eagerly towards the front of the stage, seemingly - and surprisingly - surprised at the organisers' efficiency in getting proceedings underway on time.
Franz Ferdinand play with an assurance, so seem unfazed by the daylight and the lack of a full arena to entertain. Instead they celebrate the intimacy of the early moments of their set and fix as many young female, and male, audience members with 'come-to-bed' gazes.
They pout and posture away like effeminate storm-troopers throughout their 45-minute set full of already legendary pop tunes and the audience lap up the energy, enthusiasm and carefree attitude that they give out. Many are forced into involuntary movements of arms, hips and feet when "The Dark Of The Matinee" is performed, while it also becomes clear that the popular "Michael" is set to be the next single from the album - they dedicate that to the good denizens of Berlin who stayed with them until 5am that morning for the filming of its accompanying video.
Franz Ferdinand are hot at the moment, and they deserve it. For once it seems the hype is justified and I have high hopes that their near-perfect debut album is just the first of many. But only time will tell.
Poor Ash. Talk about graveyard shift! Not only do they have to follow tomorrow's heroes, but they have to precede yesterday's. It's a thankless task, but one which they take on with the kind of smiling, youthful zest that you would expect. They even seem to have found a useful late replacement for drummer Rick McMurray in the shape of Coronation Street's Jez Quigley...
Songs from the new album "Meltdown" make up the bulk of the set, but it is only the next single "Starcrossed" that seems to carry the kind of subtlety to really rouse the crowd when things like "Girl From Mars", "Oh Yeah" and "Burn Baby Burn" were not being aired. They met with a polite, if not overly enthusiastic, response from the audience. But, honestly, their only crime on the night was not being either Franz Ferdinand or the Pixies - they do power pop as well as anyone and, anyway, it is easy to love them when they say it is an honour for them to just be on the same stage at the band who were to follow them on.
The Pixies make no bones about the fact that they have reformed due to the lure of lucre. Even their official t-shirts celebrate the fact by the having the slogan "Pixies Sell-Out" on the back above the tour dates!
It might have been easy for them, then, to do what so many other people in their position do and present a half-baked, ill-rehearsed, almost-karaoke version of their back catalogue for an audience merely keen on re-living old times.
To be fair, it would have been as surprising as it would have been horrible to have seen The Pixies go this way. Yes, there was plenty of people there, myself included, for who seeing The Pixies again represented the chance to step back in time. But there were probably as many there in Berlin who were merely aware of the band's legacy and were curious to see what all the fuss was about.
There was never a chance they would be disappointed. This band know they are still too important for them to risk lampooning themselves.
They always had a 'just home from the pub' look about them, but the Pixies 2004 version is especially striking. Charles and Joey now sport completely shaven heads, and all four have put on a bit of weight; with Charles in particular looking like he'd just eaten the entire German stockpile of Bratwurst shortly before the show.
But what does that matter, when a band is this captivating. For an hour and a half, they fire their way through an inordinate number of classics, starting subtlely with Gouge Away and building to a crescendo around the time of River Euphrates, which even had me jumping up and down like a mad eejit despite a suspected broken metatarsal.
They rocked, they rolled, then rocked some more. And Kim smiled. A lot. And the scowling, whooping and hollering was all in good order as Frank Black completed the transformation back to Black Francis seemlessly. Joey's under-rated guitar playing was to the fore once more.
Death to the Pixies? Not a bit of it. They're alive and well and still have that magic about them. It was a whole evening when the kings (and queens) of rock and roll took Berlin by storm.
Alan, 03/07/2004