Musical Chairs

#2 Dreamed a dream by the old canal

Spontaneous moment of life-affirming joy. It's almost definitely not on anyone's traditional pre-gig checklist, but the second it happens you realise it's exactly what you were waiting for.

I was part of one of those moments last month. The Mary Wallopers at Manchester Academy. Raucous and occasionally tender Irish trad teetering precariously somewhere between a bar-room brawl and a convivial family gathering. All great fun but it's what happened when they left the stage that really sticks in the memory.

As the lights came up, Dirty Old Town started playing over the PA. Within seconds, the majority of the crowd - several hundred at least - had assembled themselves in a huge circle spanning most of the main arena. In the middle a handful of dancers, traditional and otherwise, were effusively cheered on by a throng of swaying bodies, arms aloft, pints raised high. Three generations and at least as many drinks. It really was a sight to behold.

As is well documented, Dirty Old Town is a song about Salford written by a local man (Ewan MacColl). But over time it has come to mean many things to many people. That night it was a celebration. Of Manchester. Of music. Of Irishness. Of Friday nights. Of the working class. Of life.

And although The Mary Wallopers didn't write it - or even cover it that night - they created the conditions for it to be the perfect song at the perfect moment. One of the band's crew even stood on the stage to film the crowd in action.

As we reluctantly filed out of the side exit and into the Manchester night, we were soon just more shapes on the ever-changing Oxford Road canvas. But for those few precious moments we really were somewhere else.