Patti Smith Bops On

Live gigs don't get much better than last night. I was at The Roundhouse, host to the Grand Dame of punk, Patti Smith. In town to showcase her new album Twelve, Smith, in a white shirt and trademark skinny black tie, walked on stage and, for the next two hours, made sure you only had eyes for her.

Looking fabulously on-trend (androgyny is very this season, don't you know) she bopped around with the kind of the confidence and cool you'd pay millions for. The songs, including foot-stompers such as Gloria, Because the Night and Free Money, crackled with energy and excitement. The highlight? Possibly her version of "Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit", with added lyrics about a "golden-haired lad", no doubt referring to the late Kurt Cobain. I bet I wasn't the only one who, at that moment, thought it was sad he wasn't there to see one of his heroes cover his song.

The crowd was as random as it gets: trendy young scensters (spotted: lots of Amy Winehouse inspired up-dos and day-glow accessories) pogo'ed alongside nodding middle aged men, very serious-looking muso types and ageing hippies. During songs, all were frantically waving their arms in the air including my friends and I, who were transfixed. "I wish she was my Mum," shouted one, utterly captivated. "I wish I was HER," screamed another back.

In our age obsessed culture, 60-year-old Smith, with her long grey hair yet utterly cool credentials, is the perfect antithesis. If she's what getting old is all about, I'm all for it.