The Astoria was enormously important to me growing up as a suburban Londoner. Lots of my first gig experiences took place there. That was where you went to see all the good bands, the proper ones who weren’t performing at The Venue in New Cross.

I saw the Manic Street Preachers do their penultimate gig with Richey Edwards there in 1994. It was brilliant; angry, fragmented and full of visceral energy. I thought the Manics looked at their coolest during The Holy Bible period, throwing together army surplus, makeup and religious iconography with their trademark (and pretty opaque) sloganeering. This was them at their peak moment of contrariness, fitness and discipline.

We got a Christmas present of a transfer tattoo of Holy Bible artwork on the way out of the Astoria. The following night the Manics played their last gig with Richey and trashed their equipment.

And for some reason I can still remember how James, the singer, introduced the first or second song in their set. He said, “This is about the least progressive word in the English dictionary, and it’s called Yes.”

That, to me, as a 16-year-old who basically hated everything I was allowed to hate, said everything. It distilled into a sentence everything I had thought about school, authority figures, expectations, peers and social dynamics, my (very sixth form) politics, self-esteem and lots of other things I couldn’t possibly hope to articulate.

And it would pretty much articulate everything I would think for another couple of years too.