In theory, Blur's plan to play all of their singles, in order of release, was perfect: they are the songs people know best, and that alone can make for a great gig. In practice, however, it meant scuppering the thrill of unpredictability.

Sticking to the chronology resulted in some unwelcome quirks. As an opener, the bouncy but largely forgotten I Know lacked impact. Their most recent release, No Distance Left to Run, featured some of Graham Cox's most gorgeous guitar work, but was too downbeat for a closer. The middle reeled with jarring juxtapositions: normally, no one would clamp the sensitive To the End between the cocky Girls and Boys and Parklife.

But this was an enjoyable night, for the simple reason that at least two-thirds of Blur's singles are corkers. The muddy sound didn't do softies like Coffee and TV any favours, but MOR, Country House and Popscene rattled out with an invigorating energy.

Blur's shift from basic indie through sweeping, brass-laden tunes to sometimes abrasive, sometimes introspective alternative outfit wasn't as striking as their talent for prodding guitar pop into different shapes. Their idiosyncrasy affords them an integrity that should see them merrily through their second decade.