Sham 69, Hammersmith Palais, London <!-- none onestar threestar fourstar fivestar -->

With such a poor turnout on their return, punk's most robust survivors must have wished they had kept live commitments in South America. Sham 69 had cancelled gigs in Brazil and Argentina to promote their first Top 10 hit in more than 25 years, a rewrite of the lairy pub anthem "Hurry up Harry" that has become the biggest-selling song for England's World Cup campaign. What they faced was a mere 200 enthusiastic skate punks and cheery old-timers in football shirts.

At least they had lost the far-right yobs who partly caused them to disband in 1980. Sham 69 were hailed as the genuine voice of working-class youth, in contrast to The Clash's white-Rasta posturing. But gigs were hijacked by hooligans, even though the front man, Jimmy Pursey, spoke out at anti-racist festivals.

Pursey looked to be making up for lost time as he roared through some early rabble-rousers. Leathery of skin, the singer's voice barely cracked over Dave Parsons's muscular backing. With a younger rhythm section, Sham 69 were crisper than in their heyday.

On new material, Pursey attempted to recapture old glories. "Asbo Sports Day" showed his ability to get to the point, but 9/11 was a thornier issue. While "Medic" captured the helplessness of revisiting that day, the bard of Hersham had little else to offer.

With older songs like "Borstal Breakout", though, Sham 69 maintained strength in depth. In terms of primal rock'n'roll power, this was their finest moment. Then came "If The Kids Are United", an anthem so infectious that Tony Blair used it at the last Labour conference.

"What am I?" Pursey mused. "Belly dancer? Model? Chav?" - references to both his stint as a performance artist and a new take on his place in music, something he proudly declaimed in "Hersham Boys". Otherwise, Sham 69 remained a limited proposition, Pursey's voice in particular only operating at one, steam-cleaner level.

And although he spent a long time in his mic-gripping, head-thrust-out pose, Pursey failed to engage himself fully. For the eventual run through "Hurry up England", he was content to hold out his microphone stand over the audience to sing along. Not that there was much to pick up from a paltry moshpit. With only a 45-minute set, the band were in no danger of outstaying a muted welcome.