Mugison: Saw this guy first on a DVD I picked up in Iceland. He was playing in a tiny attic with a band mate, then later in an isolated little used church. Seeing the gig advertised, thought if I can’t go to Iceland, at least I can see someone who is Icelandic.

Arrived at Manchester Oxford Road station at 7pm on a Friday night – the place was buzzing, Manchester gearing up for a good night out. Nipped into Adbul’s for a bite … of you guessed it … chicken kebab. As always fantastic – a little smaller than the kebabs down at Whitworth Park but still the most tasty I’ve ever had. Left the shop with mouth burning with the chilli sauce.

Walked down to the University, plenty of time to get there, and into the student’s union. Another gig was on in the same building that night – 80s rock group Europe. Lots of hair around me going up the stairs, and the ticket guy said I was the first person he’d seen with a Mugison ticket.

Into the bar, and the place was thronged with middle aged rockers of all shapes and sizes. I looked around wondering if I’d spot Mugison in the bar. I remembered he had a beard, but all these Europe fans had beards. I went down to the gig room in the basement. It was completely empty. Must be the smallest Academy venue – I’d never been there. I went back upstairs hoping a few people at least were going to turn up.

I decided to skip the support. I’d hoped he would be Icelandic, but his name suggested he was from the UK, maybe I missed a treat?

Going back down for 9.30, the room had filled out a little – still nowhere near half full, but when Mugison came on, the response he was getting was enough – it seemed like a nice crowd.

He started with two songs dedicated to his wife. He was telling stories in between songs in his wonderful Icelandic accent – his wife was a ‘great practical joker’, she booked his tour dates and sometimes as a joke would book him on an airplane to the wrong city, so he would then have to travel across by his own means

Sometimes playing with a band, tonight he was on his own, and most of the songs were with guitar, though on a couple he played a strange small computer gadget that made loads of weird noises … samples from ‘broken guitars’ etc. At one point he stood up and searched his pockets. He was looking for a pick … a girl from the audience volunteered one.

His stories were very amusing, some of an ‘adult’ nature … such as the ‘Ice Breaker’ – a sailor he had met fishing off the coast of Russia, and also an onstage trouser accident he had had in Brussels – very funny.

A couple of songs he had the audience particating, with an wicked smile he had the girls responding to ‘Jesus is a good name to moan’ … I think he enjoyed that one … haha

He is ‘a bit afraid of encores’ so he stood up took a bow then sat back down and immediately played the ‘encore’ … a reference to the ‘final countdown’ caused a few chuckles … then he strode across to the bar his job done … who knows where his night went from there.

For me it was a walk back down Oxford Road, getting a telling off for walking into the wrong exit of the coach station, a short wait to get on the last coach back across the Pennines. In the seat behind a very pretty girl from I know not which country was having a phone conversation in an unknown language, and I was lulled by her murmurings and slightly dirty laugh back across the M62.