The Cambridge Corn Exchange got thrown headfirst back into 90s Madchester on Thursday night as Happy Mondays rolled in to celebrate 35 years of Pills ’n’ Thrills and Bellyaches.
The Happy Mondays were supported by Liverpool band The Farm, a brilliant prelude to the main act.
Singles 'All together Now' and 'Groovy Train', both top 10 hits in 1990, got revellers in the mood for the nostalgic night ahead.
Firouzeh Berry kicked things off with big, soulful vocals. A strong start, but everyone knew what they were waiting for.
Drifting out from behind a wall of smoke, Shaun Ryder’s voice appeared and cheers arose before he even stepped into view. The place lit up.
Seconds later, Bez charged onstage, maracas in hand, arms wide, like he’d been shot out of a cannon.
'Kinky Afro' dropped and that was it—the room was theirs.
Bez barely stopped moving. A strip of white tape at the edge of the stage tried (and failed) to contain him as he strutted up and down, a safety net that wasn't going to catch him should he fall.
At one point, he tripped straight into the speakers—but somehow styled it out by just lying across them like it was all part of the plan.
He grabbed phones from the crowd, filmed from the stage, handed them back.
Hats were launched up, worn briefly, danced in, then returned just as quickly. The crowd loved it. Pure chaos, completely on brand.
Ryder, meanwhile, held it down in his usual cool Mancunian stance—half spoken, half mumbled delivery, like he’s permanently unimpressed but still in total control.
The only cracks came when he tried to read from the set list, occasionally looking like it had caught him off guard.
It just made it better—less rock star, more “yeah, we’re still winging it”.
Bez kept things unpredictable, constantly nicking the mic off Ryder, yelling something completely unintelligible, then drifting back into maraca mode like nothing had happened.
Later, when iconic track 'Step On' kicked in, it felt like the entire place shifted another gear—one of those moments where the nostalgia hits properly and no one’s standing still.
People rose from their seats, bucket hats were bopping in the shadows, everyone lost in the 90s nostalgia.
These guys are in their 60s now. There’ve been health issues, years of chaos behind them, and you can see flashes of that.
But, somehow, that just adds to it. This isn’t a band pretending to be what they were—it’s a band that survived it, still standing, still causing a bit of havoc.
The performance is rough around the edges, but that’s the whole point.
Happy Mondays are not about perfection. They’re about energy, attitude, and not really caring if it all goes a bit sideways.
And on Thursday night in Cambridge, it absolutely did—in the best way possible.
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