SugarSlam 2010. Left to right: Brett Stewart, Pete Bretel, John McConnell and Ross Falla.

HOW am I going to review what was one of my favourite bands of the 90s?  Actually – if I am being totally honest – they were my favourite.

What if they are not as good as they once were? Maybe they have lost the fire that they once had?

The thing with Sugarslam is that they were a band: four different fellas, all united as a band of brothers.

They all brought their individual elements to the party, from Ross in the corner – the solid, quiet and inventive bass player – to Brett’s nimble powerhouse drumming, John’s solid rhythm guitar playing and Pete’s crunching chords and scatter-shot lead riffs. And he had a voice, let’s not forget.

That and some nifty songs.

The other point that is really important with good rock ’n’ roll bands, and was the case with Sugarslam, is they were totally believable. They meant it and played with a total honesty.

Although they appeared around the grunge era, I always thought they had a bit more than that genre offered. There were elements of punk in there (the proper stuff, such as The Damned and The Deadboys), there were the heavy metal influences and, dare I say it, bits of almost powerpop.

They had the melodies down, too.

It all used to work brilliantly and much to my relief, it still does. OK, preamble over.

What was the gig like?

The Fermain Tavern was starting to fill up nicely when I got there on Saturday.

There was a good mix of people: old fans and younger interested folks, all very expectant.

The band members were walking around nervously, cradling beers and chatting to old friends.

Eventually they drifted over to the stage. A quick tune-up, a bit of intro music. And blam.

A blast of Gibson Les Pauls and some manic drumming, a wall of bass and we were off, the band blasting into Cherub Rock, the first song.

As the first set took off it was clear the crowd was on the band’s side from the start and this spurred them on. Nothing sounded dated, nothing sounded tired – this was the Sugarslam of old – a bit older, but they have lost none of their fire.

A well-chosen Nirvana cover, About a Girl, kept everybody happy and the original songs were applauded and appreciated.

However, there is still that space at the front of the Fermain Tavern, a bit like some invisible swimming pool that nobody wants to dive into.

The first set was over quickly and it was a fine performance.

Soundman Mark Guillou did a fine job.

A 15-minute break followed, then the band opened the second set with the Pearl Jam classic Alive.

They were really cooking now, as their confidence grew.

The energy level was much higher in the second set.

A brilliant version of my favourite Sugarslam song Psychobabble was followed by a really heavy, punky version of the Stooges’ I Wanna Be Your Dog.

It was as if someone had turned on a big switch because from then until the end of the second set the band could do no wrong – and the crowd loved it.

A certain Mr Pierre Bean arrived with an ironing board and plonked a keyboard down on it, finishing off the Stooges song and then playing Faith No More’s Out of Nowhere.

OK, hands up from me, but from Psychobabble onwards I started enjoying rather than reviewing, so the rest of the set was a blur and was over far too quickly.

Surely they must do some encores, I thought, and by golly they did.

A song of their own called, I think, Today, followed by Neil Young’s Rockin’ in the Free World and to end, a mental version of Ace of Spades, the Motorhead anthem.

The invisible swimming pool had pretty much disappeared half-way through the second set and was now full of happy, sweaty people.

The band could probably have played a few more by now but that was it– and it was all over too soon.

One criticism: next time lads, don’t leave it 14 years, eh?

And another thing that springs to mind: good to have you back.