Having driven 163 or so miles from their previous gig and benefiting from a day off - their first in 12 days - the band is rested and keen as mustard. “Welcome to The League Of Gentlemen. We are a dance band. The perceptive among you can hardly have failed to have noticed that a few tables and chairs have mysteriously disappeared courtesy of the management,” says Fripp ahead of the show. “This is so that any of you who would wish to dance have the opportunity to do so. But I will say this quite seriously: this is not a place for spectators. People do not stand here and stare. People get on here and dance.” Another toe-tapper of a gig to be sure and the encore version of Dislocated is a jaw dropper with Fripp playing what sounds like the chordal climb-out of Pictures Of A City as he builds back momentum. It’s unlikely that anyone in the crowd noticed nor cared but they sound like they had a good time. Of course, not everyone was convinced by Fripp’s move into dance music. Reviewer Steve Morse commented “The music, above and beyond its summits of excellence (to give the ensemble its due) was transmitted in automaton fashion. Expressionless, Fripp dispensed erratic (and sometimes far too indulgent) burst of guitar, while ex-XTC member Barry Andrews, who jabbed away on a customised Crumar, never looked up from his keyboards. . . A true dance band communicates a liberating joy to the audience, and this criterion was not met last night.”