LES Miserables last night having failed to make an appearance --

despite his name being massively billed above the Playhouse's main

entrance -- we were bowled over instead by Lou Foursquare, John Plain,

Sterling Stoic, and Maureen Simply-Indispensable.

Twenty-five years on, Messrs Reed, Cale, Morrison, and Ms Tucker

kicked off with We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together. Over the

next two hours, we did.

Questions, questions. Was the dead weight of the Velvets' own

mythology rent asunder? How was it different to the records? Was it sad

or was it happy? Were there any new songs?

And the answers are: yes, thankfully; it just was; both; one.

The new song (and I don't want any VU completists to tell me

otherwise) was called Messed Around, and was about the least convincing

(too archly simple), as were the two most uptempo old ones of the

evening: I Heard Her Call My Name was performed clipped, rather than

loose.

White Light/White Heat proceeded at a rollicking pace with which the

band seemed unhappy.

Revelation of the night? Maureen Tucker's intuitive drumming being the

glue that held it all together.

Highlights? An enthralling conclusion in the form of Heroin, diary of

a junkie.

And the pointed non-dedication of Rock And Roll, that hymn to rock on

the airwaves (''Despite all the amputations you can still go out and

dance to a rock'n'roll station''), to James Boyle, Radio Scotland's

rock-banishing overlord.

Aye, apres tout ce temps, les ineffable guitar-et-drum Americains sont

groovy.

The language the Velvet Underground invented still communicates the

rock'n'roll verities.