McFly: The greatest pop band of our time, natch. Photograph: Dave Hogan/Getty
In September last year, some know-nothing idiot from this newspaper wrote a review of McFly live at the Sheffield Hallam arena in which it was suggested - mostly, it must be said, on the evidence of one band member's change in hairstyle - that the youthful four-piece were on the verge of breaking up. That idiot was me, and I wish to take it all back. I saw McFly play the Astoria in London on Tuesday and they were so squeal-inducingly, air-punchingly brilliant that I think and hope they will go on for years.
Now, I am a woman of varied taste. I enjoyed an evening of punk-tinged sitar music at the Whitechapel Gallery on Friday, last Tuesday was the Cold War Kids and just the other week Denmark's majestical Kissaway Trail were so good they made me weep. But there is something about a proper pop gig, fronted by a proper pop band, attended by thousands of proper teenagers screaming themselves mute that gets me every time.
You will still see me sitting cross-legged at the feet of an unwashed indie group and nodding my head along happily to bands who will never be big enough to have a pyrotechnics budget. But ever since I started attending pop extravaganzas - I'm talking high-concept scenery, fireworks and, in the case of Pink's latest triumphant effort, druids - ordinary gigs just haven't quite cut it. By the encore, I am so often crying out for, at least, a costume change.
Too many "cool" bands take themselves far too seriously. Not McFly: not only did recent single Star Girl contain the oft-quoted line "Hey, there's nothing on Earth that could save us/ When I found love with Uranus", but many early interviews were largely composed of anecdotes about "Jeff", a huge poo done by the band's heartthrob, bassist Dougie.
And it's so refreshing how no one has managed to media train them properly. My old flatmate interviewed them back in the day when at least one member of the band was too young to consent to sex, and they spent the whole interview asking her for a shag.
Nothing's changed: last night Dougie, the band's youngest member at 19, kept yelling "We're McFly and we're horny! You're all over 16, right?" And when he took lead vocals for Transylvania, his bandmate Danny licked his cheek for a whole verse. Compare this to the recent Christina Aguilera tour, which included a wholly serious video segment in which Xtina's fans dribbled on about how the singer had made their lives worth living. Or the time I saw Girls Aloud "perform" and they didn't even sing live.
None of this would necessarily suggest longevity. But musically, McFly have matured - and happily not in a Charlie from Busted kind of way, giving up tunes in favour of indie scuzzability. With their latest double A-side about to make number one, they're showing no signs of waning after three years - which, when you consider that boyband years are like dog years, means they are due a lifetime-achievement gong at the next Smash Hits awards.
On the last tour they were in danger of taking themselves too seriously (too many drum solos and, worse, a harmonica), but Tuesday night they simply sounded more accomplished than ever. I'll Be OK began with a Led Zeppelin riff, they teased the crowd with some flirty breaks in Star Girl and set opener Friday Night sounded like a proper stomping rock song. And they smashed up their guitars.
This is why McFly are the greatest pop band of our time.
