So, 20 years, eh? The Club Formerly Known as Saints and Sinners celebrated its china anniversary with a party thrown for those who have been significantly involved in helping elevate Tuts to what is, it must be said, legendary status. (Or, as Jim Gellatly said, “mythical”).

A few myths exploded: loveable Mancunian cock-rockers Oasis did indeed meet their mentor, Alan ‘CAPS’ McGee here, at a show in 19-oatcake. And the Manics love the hot food.

Aside from that it’s been a steady stream of on-the-up bands who’ve graced the stage over the past two decades. Head honcho Geoff Ellis rambles enthusiastically but inaudibly before tonight’s first takes the stage, though his mic is fixed in time for us hear him pay tribute to the venue’s founder Stuart Clumpas. We also catch the word “Pearlfishers” – could they perhaps have been the first act to play here? We know that Martin Stephenson was the first headliner in February 1990, though why he’s not part of the month-long ‘celebration’- which previously saw the Manic Street Preachers take the stage – is unclear.

If blogs had been de rigeur 20 years ago, I’d doubtless have filed a report of some sort detailing my first experience of the venue. As it happens, I can’t even recall who played the first time I visited Tuts (though under its previous guise a 21st birthday party of a college friend – hello, Noreen – was the first time I’d visited 272a St. Vincent Street). I was living in Edinburgh in 1990, and with that city’s decent collection of gig venues – The Venue, Attic and Cas Rock, all since ‘redeveloped’ – trips back home for music weren’t always essential. A Carter USM show in July that year may have been my first experience of the place, memorable for a tight sweaty moshpit and the first time I’d seen an attempt at crowd-surfing – or, a pair of feet sticking up vertically from the front row.

Rather different to tonight then and its rather more grown-up proceedings. First act up are Biffy Clyro, sadly in oh-so-quiet acoustic mode, not helped by the venue’s legendary shape, which means that in any sell-out show a good quarter of the audience will be forced around the corner into the bar. Tonight, a fair proportion of these are quite happy to be out of sight of the main event, chattering loudly with their fellow movers and shakers and remaining oblivious to Scotland’s current Rock Legends In The Making.

More still are stranded downstairs – I txt Evan to let him know who the mystery guests are. Sadly, the iPhone’s predictive text isn’t programmed to Scottish Rock Legends, and my simple message becomes “Buggy!” – literally, I suppose. A quick follow-up – “‘mon the Buggy!” – sees a response of “venue full”.
Biffy, quietly, entertain, with a selection of old and new, though stripped down it’s hard to tell the difference. Sue hears the words “first single”, I hear “new single”, and as it happens the big-on-Radio 2, Snow Patrol-esque ‘Many of Horror’ comes up a few songs later, showing that perhaps what we heard was ‘iname’. Or ’27’. Much as the band have their charms, a complete acoustic set isn’t quite what we expect and is pretty unsuitable for this chattering audience.

Fortified by King Tuts beer (a pleasant German-styled alternative to the usual T) we elect to watch Stephen Pastel and Gerry Love DJ downstairs and stay there to watch Sucioperro – also in acoustic mode and sounding not dissimilar to Biffy – play the middle set. Then, as the witching hour approaches, a quick trawl around the liggers and a few despairing attempts to sort out some Tigerfest acts. Sadly, we have to pass on the Dykeenies’ headline set. A Grand Night Out, as always given Tuts’ hospitality, though sadly the sound doesn’t quite live up to the visuals.