What can you say about Arab Strap? A rather odd-sounding Scottish group driven by two equally odd Scottish chaps in Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton, known for their melancholy tunes of drunken mishaps, failed relationships and the trials and tribulations of being a Glasgow native. Their lyrics are to–the-point, leaving nothing to the imagination and their arrangements are as sparse and gloomy as the words to go with them. You’d be hard pushed to find a Scottish band that dabbles in folk music that doesn’t cite them as an influence.

Arab Strap’s legacy has endured long after their demise in 2006, with Moffat and Middleton both forging their own respective solo works since then (see Aidan Moffat and Bill Wells’ ‘Everything’s Getting Older’ as one of the best listens of the year). And although requests were numerous for the two men to reunite under their famous moniker, both Aidan and Malcolm seemed to shrug it off with the uninterested sighs that they were all too well-known for. So when on the 7^th of November Arab Strap announced through their separate Twitter accounts that the band would reunite for a free one-off gig celebrating the 20^th birthday of Glasgow pub Nice’N’Sleazy, it was always going to come as a bit of a shock.

Getting tickets for tonight was suitably low-key, with Middleton and Moffat posting online that the gig would be happening: “To apply for FREE tickets for Arab Strap at @nice_n_sleazy on November 17th, email 17thnovember2011@gmail.com. 2 tickets max per address,” tweeted Malcolm early on a Monday morning, just ten days before tonight. Of course, the response to such a momentous announcement was never going to be as indifferent, with an apparent 900% over-subscription and both Twitter and Facebook awash with the almost suicidal despair of those that missed out. So the fact that yours truly succeeded, sending the request for tickets in a half awake daze from my bed might have made me feel a bit bad for those not so lucky, were I not too busy rubbing it in their faces.

The air in the venue tonight is excitable, best demonstrated by the support band’s lead singer. The Twilight Sad’s James Graham declares tonight “A bit of a head fuck” and it’s hard to argue. All the chalk boards upstairs advertise a gig from the mysterious ‘William Harness’. Why they chose to use a fake name at this point is lost on me because there can’t be anyone in the building that doesn’t know what’s going on downstairs. The Twilight Sad are great in their own right, boasting their own sold out show the following night. They play a stripped-back series of their best songs, with a clearly emotional Graham demonstrating a brilliant singing voice.

Slowly the buzz in the room reaches a fever pitch, then the lights dim and bagpipe music blares as the two unassuming chaps walk into the room.

“Well isn’t this peculiar...for one night only, we are Arab Strap.” Aidan Moffat’s opening statement sums everything up beautifully as the pair take to the stage, assuming an almost mythical stature, to rapturous applause. And while the band slowly trudge through what is a criminally small handful of songs it’s clear that this is something special. They open with the sombre 'Packs of Three', Moffat’s voice sounding as sincere and full as the day the song was written. The crowd stay silent throughout the whole rendition, as they do for most of the night, absolutely captivated by what they’re witnessing. Moffat stands calmly at the microphone, occasionally swaying and stepping to the right to fiddle with a drum machine that can’t be much younger than the band’s songs, while Middleton sits, focused totally on his acoustic guitar. It’s impossible for songs like 'Amor Veneris' and 'The Shy Retirer' not to bring a tear to the eyes. And when the final chord of each song fades out, it’s always followed by the same deafening roar from when the band first arrived.

The only people in the room who appear unmoved by the whole spectacle are the band themselves, with Malcolm Middleton approaching his playing the same way you might approach a guitar lesson and Moffat calmly pacing to the back of the room for a swig of beer when he’s not required to sing. When he is at the microphone however, Aidan is capable of bringing every word to life with a realism and honesty that is something to behold. When listening to an Arab Strap album, it’s always amazing how the lyrics put you right in the room where all the sex and drug taking is happening. Tonight when the same lyrics pour out, you’re not just there, you’re taking part.

“This is our last song”- says Moffat, as we reach the end of the night. Everyone in the room makes clear their disappointment and Malcolm is quick to reassure: “It’s not like it’s our last song ever...oh hold on.” Tonight’s gig led to many rumours and offers for the band apparently, with suggestions that this evening was a warm-up and five figure sums of money being wafted under their noses. Aidan assures everyone, however, that it really will be the last time that Arab Strap play together. It gives everything an air of sad finality that only this band could create. It’s finally time now to call it a day.

That the band close on their signature tune “The First Big Weekend” is fitting in so many ways and this time the audience decides to get involved, with cheers and laughs given for every priceless lyric and quip. A particularly large cheer is afforded to the story of Malcolm making his terrible attempt to chat up a girl and a trip down to gritty club the Arches. As with every song tonight, you feel like you’re really there, but this one in particular grabs you and shakes you and forces you to live it. Tonight we’re having our first big weekend, tonight we’re sharing in the disappointment that England won two-nil, tonight we’re watching that classic episode of the Simpsons and heading to the pub around ten, experiencing terrible nightmares and deciding that now “It’s officially Summer”. When the band bring their last ramble to a close with that immortal line, all sadness has been washed from the room and we feel privileged and overjoyed at having seen such a spectacle.

“See you in 20 years”, Moffat’s closing line is somewhat sarcastic but you can’t help but feel that if in 20 years Nice N Sleazy is still standing, there will be an audience in the room just as ecstatic and dumbstruck to see this strange entity creep onto the stage once more. In a world where Jeff Mangum has emerged from his long hibernation, and the Stone Roses are gearing up for their Second Coming it’s hard to compare the magnitude of even their return to the time that Arab Strap, for one night only, returned in all their unremarkable glory.