The Strokes @ Dingwalls, London

Hen’s teeth. That’s what tonight’s ticket holders have gotten their pesky mitts on, and we’re pleased to say by some hook or crook Artrocker was there, row three (make that two depending on the surge of the crowd), sweating our proverbials off and loving every minute.

After what seems like an hour of anticipation playing sardines, there emerges five men on the teeny Dingwalls stage, and with possibly a handful more greying hairs between them, they’re still very much recognisable as The Strokes. When we say recognisable, this is of course that new outfit Venison - or at least that's the name they've chosen to present this show under, and it's taken to the hearts of fans as those surrounding me are punching the air in a unison chant of "Venison, Venison, Venison". Still every inch the coolest mother-lovers NYC ever bred, Julian Casablancas takes the mic in leather and shades for the first Strokes chord in four years: it feels fitting for what is about to ensue that this comes as ‘New York City Cops’.

Anyone with a remotely good viewing spot is now sweatily forced to hump their neighbours, as the first three songs also include ‘Modern Age’ and ‘Hard To Explain’, in a set that will heavily rely on Is This It. Fab Morretti seems to be sporting a permanent smile, while Nicolai Fraiture is content to stare forth and Nick Valensi becomes resplendent in sweat. Meanwhile, Julian is locked in a battle with his mic, most fraught during ‘Vision of Division’ – mainly because he’s busting a lung on reaching the heights of “how long must I wait?”

In some sort of microcosm of the water cycle, evaporated sweat drips in buckets back down to its makers, not that we care. But the gig tension rests on a knife edge, as some over-exuberance sees the stewarding staff getting a little over zealous with chucking people out and forming an impenetrable line mid-crowd. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the band, who keep asking if everyone is alright and saying “man, this is crazy!”

Sound-wise we’re treated to easily some of the best levels: bass nice and heavy for its walk about in ‘Is This It’, vocals somehow even closer to the ceiling than our own cawing voices, and those Morretti drums tight and crisply sweet for the main sets’ closer ‘Last Nite’.

However, it’s the penultimate in the encore, ‘Heart in a Cage’, which captures Valensi and Hammond Jr. at their riffing best, each note gliding licentiously around Julian’s more brooding vocal delivery. Maybe odd, given they are in the middle of a new record’s conception, but no new songs are debuted, making tonight all about reminding everyone where they left off.

With a legacy of astute and defiant tracks, that’s just fine by us. ‘Take It Or Leave It’ marks the end of the gig and the most testing on the singer, who takes the chorus moments to stroll his audience and lacerate our ears with his raw larynx. At just over an hour, their set has felt satisfyingly long, for when the lights come up and ‘The Boys Are Back In Town’ starts spinning, it seems everyone’s in agreement: good to have you back boys.