As a born and bred Brit there are certain things I am accustomed to: queuing for buses, constant rain and soggy chips, all of which I have experienced today. The one thing I do hate, however, is being made to wait for someone who says they’re going to turn up at a certain time.

Forty minutes after the advertised start, the house lights drop and the riot-inciting words of NWA’s ‘Straight Outta Compton’ accompanied by a Marshal/Gibson Feedback combo pump from the speaker stacks.

Two things are made instantly clear as the venue is coated in a blazing orange hue:

1) Rock ‘n’ Roll is for life not just for Christmas
2) Smoking is THE coolest thing in the world

Scott Weiland swaggers to the mic, in a shroud of silhouette, just the glowing embers of a lit fag to show signs of life.

Disregard for the smoking ban? Check.
Sunglasses and hat in doors? Check.
Leather jacket? Check.
Jeans tighter than this year’s budget? Check.

This is a man sculpted by God to rock your socks off and sleep with your girlfriend, and the thing is you want to be him so much, you’re going to let him, and when he’s done pass him a towel and give him a full assessment of his performance.

As Velvet Revolver, the band Weiland presently fronts, begin tearing through the first few tracks of tonight’s set list it becomes apparent that this is an outfit that are really starting to feel comfortable in their own skin.

There is none of the on-stage distance that was witnessed within the defunct supergroup Audioslave. This is a band that is starting to gel.

But I don’t know why it comes as a surprise that the set is interspersed with several of (Weiland’s former band) Stone Temple Pilots’ highest chart climbers.

A rousing applause is the retort from a jerky ‘Vaseline’ and ‘Interstate Love Song’ from the acclaimed 12 Gracious Melodies (AKA Purple). But Dave Kushner and Slash’s playing styles are far looser than STP’s DeLeo brothers and it just doesn’t sound as good.

For me they are presented as lack lustre filler, like wilted lettuce in a prime steak sandwich, which possibly explains the lack of Guns N’ Roses tracks in their limited arsenal.

A thundering rendition of ‘Mr Brownstone’ is slugged out of the park without even the slightest hint of irony along with an uncomfortable sounding ‘Patience’ featuring Slash’s custom-built twin-neck guitar which has an acoustic on top and electric on the bottom.

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- - - The obligatory 10 minute spot lit Slash guitar solo, follows which although a nice opportunity to hit the bar, seems dated and in some respects shows our guitar hero as not quite hitting all the right buttons in sequence tonight. What does get everyone jumping are album number two Libertad’s high-energy ‘Get Out The Door’ (anything with a cowbell blatantly rocks), ‘She Builds Quick Machines’ and ‘Just Sixteen’, the latter providing some classic dual vocal action between Weiland and the hat-man himself.

Signature tune ‘Slither’ from debut Contraband has everyone air widdling to their hearts’ content, as the band take five.

The show somewhat oddly climaxes with an encore consisting of an absolutely astounding extended and vamped up ‘Sex Type Thing’ From STP’s debut 1992 album Core, which begs the question: who’s driving this train and where the hell is it going?

Admittedly VR’s sound is far more akin to the hard rock grunge aesthetic of STP or a young Pearl Jam than G’NR’s fret-wanking high-voltage rock. It’s catchy, hook-laden and hard-hitting, and for this reason alone I think that there should be serious staying power in the VR camp despite rumours of personality clashes between drummer Matt Sorem and frontman Weiland.

There is no mention of the mooted split that was announced during the Glasgow show a few days prior, and this is a good thing.

What is quite clear is that this is still a band finding its feet and it is almost certain that if it were to continue, regardless of the intended Stone Temple Pilots reunion, a third album could be the catalyst for taking these veterans seriously.