Reinvention. It’s been an obsession of established bands since time began.

It’s this weird idea that a band - no matter how good they are when they play to their strengths - has to consistently review their way of working in bid to remain relevant to their audience and produce songs that make critics stroke their chins and nod in approval.

U2, Madonna, Radiohead, the Beatles are just a few of the more famous names known to have changed their ways of working to find new ways to sound. Even Rudi and Spider travelled to a far off land in the Mighty Boosh looking for the ‘New Sound’. It’s just what these artistes have to do.

The thing that no one remembers however is how bands, after spending years in the electro/nob-twiddling studio wilderness, always seem to realise that they need to go full circle and rediscover the fire that they had at the beginning – their raison d’etre.

Look at the bands mentioned earlier: U2 returned from the Pop abyss with widescreen anthems that recalled their Joshua Tree pomp, while Madonna’s Confessions on a Dancefloor was a step back to her simple music-to-dance-to beginnings. Even the Fab Four tried (but embarrassingly failed) to rediscover their humble beginnings with the Let It Be sessions.

It is at this point where we find Manic Street Preachers today. The 21st Century hasn’t been too kind to James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire and Sean Moore. The trio’s initial attempt to return to year zero produced the sprawling overlong Know Your Enemy, while a following Greatest Hits release only served to suggest the band were ready to pack it in.

To top it off, the glossy MOR of 2004’s Lifeblood sounded like they were ready to quit. Despite moments of brilliance (see 1985 and A Song for Departure), this ‘reinvention’ album lacked the spirit of many of their other albums. It was the sound of the original Generation Terrorists becoming Keane, a truly unique band beginning to just sound like any other.

Fortunately, that default setting of returning to what you know best kicked in and the Manics have returned in 2007 looking lean, mean and ready for action. With an album and single comfortably hitting the top 10, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was 1997 all over again. The band are reenergized and reinvigorated, ready to take on the world once more.

A sell-out tour has confirmed that the trio are far from finished, and the crowd who waited for the last great political rock band to hit the stage at Leeds University was as diverse as ever – proving that the Manics remain one of the most unique British acts of the last 20 years.

Forty and fifty-year-old mothers and fathers mix with leopard print and eyeliner-clad culture sluts, while geeky looking students and hairy metallers stand in queues for the toilets. This is not a normal gig, this is not a normal band.

So imagine the disappointment when support Fear of Music strolled onto the stage. Dressed like any other indie band, it becomes immediately obvious why a couple of people near the front think they are the Klaxons and take good care to make sure the foursome know this every time they finish a song.

Despite the heckling though, their music was distinctly not Klaxons-like, with the lead guitarists jarring Greenwood/Coxonisms turning every song into an angular, interesting noise. The only real sore point of a decent set was the singer’s thick Americanised Molko-esque voice, which was made all the more unbelievable when his speaking voice was a relatively regular Mancunian drawl.

The band got very little sympathy when they told of being involved in a car crash, and provided a comedic moment when the vocalist’s microphone failed to work during A Blueprint. They wandered offstage after their set to a relatively warm applause, but must have known that their audience had been stood out in the rain earlier tonight for one reason and one reason only…and it wasn’t for them.

After an impatient 35-minute wait, the crowd finally got what they had waited for, as the Manics strode out onto the stage and ripped into a frantic You Love Us. Amidst the pushing and the pogoing, it became immediately clear how much the band meant business.

Throughout the set they looked content and happy, confirming that playing half-full enormo-domes is nothing like being 3ft away from the front row and being able to see the whites of your adoring public’s eyes. A rousing and raucous run-through of their most recent single Your Love Alone is Not Enough only served to confirm that the reconnection with their fans – and themselves – is truly complete.

While the usual hits were played out with the precision and class of the professional band they are, the band sounded anything but workmanlike. The new record, Send Away The Tigers, carries a hidden cover (badly hidden away only 40 seconds after the final song) of John Lennon’s Working Class Hero and it was hard not to feel that here they were in front of you, the final great working class heroes giving their all like their lives depended on it.

Any signs of the mid-life crisis that Lifeblood suggested were wiped away by the meaner, tougher sound that was employed throughout the set. No material from that LP was played, as tracks from debut Generation Terrorists (a searing Born to End and the beautiful Little Baby Nothing) and second album Gold Against the Soul (the Metallica-esque fan favourite Sleepflower) were preferred instead.

Even You Stole the Sun From My Heart, one of their tamest sounding ‘rock’ songs on record, sounded vital and important in the sweatbox venue.

As ever, they finished with A Design For Life, possibly the only song to hit number two in the charts with ‘libraries’ as its first word. Of course, it was brilliantly received by the adoring crowd and the band left the stage knowing they had thoroughly satisfied their devoted following.

The trio didn’t do an encores, they rarely have. Who needs encores when a band can leave your throat so hoarse from shouting every word? Who needs encores when they leave you dripping from head to toe in sweat? Who needs encores when they’ve blown you away with a selection of their finest hits and lost classics?

Fans were greeted by torrential rain on their departure from the venue. It was probably a welcome relief after the physical and emotional battering they received in the Refectory that night. Many of them had just witnessed a band who sounded on top form, reborn and ready to thrill the masses once again.

Britain’s finest intelligent, (and possibly only outright) political rock band are definitely closer to the end of their careers than the beginning, so enjoy them while you still can.