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The arena goes dark, and the crowd starts to buzz with a ripple of anticipation that only a beloved '90s boy band can conjure. A thrilling moment later, pyrotechnics erupt, the bassline drops, and five familiar silhouettes appear. Slam Dunk (Da Funk) kicks in, the flashing lights pulse to the beat, and suddenly we’re all fifteen again, without the streaky hair mascara and teenage waistlines, of course. It’s been twenty-five years since Five last toured together in their original lineup. I never saw them back then; concerts were a luxury my teenage wallet largely couldn’t afford, but last night, surrounded by shrieking elder millennial women my age clutching wine in plastic cups, it felt like a small piece of 90s history had looped back on itself. The energy was instant, joyful, and just the right side of cheesy fun. There were flames, a live band, extremely 90s-choreographed moves, and an atmosphere that felt more like a reunion between old friends than a paid-for gig. When the band paused between songs to laugh with each other about being back on stage together, you could see the disbelief and delight on their faces. For the crowd, it was the same feeling, the surreal joy of watching the soundtrack to our adolescence come roaring back to life with five bad boys with the power to rock you. Few boy bands were bigger than Five in the late 1990s. Sean Conlon, Ritchie Neville, Scott Robinson, Abz Love, and Jason “J” Brown burst onto the British music scene in 1997 with slick choreography, unstoppable energy, and a string of catchy songs that mixed singing with rap, usually delivered by J and Abz with just the right amount of cheek. Simon Cowell and BMG/RCA quickly snapped them up on a six-album deal, and they went on to become megastars. Between 1997 and 2001, they scored eleven UK Top 10 singles, sold over ten million records worldwide, and somehow managed to sound at home on both Radio 1 and Radio 2. Hits like If Ya Gettin’ Down, Everybody Get Up and Keep On Movin’ were unavoidable. You heard them everywhere back then, from school discos to supermarkets and car radios, and you simply could not escape the relentless bangers. From superstar gigs to cosy pubs, find out What’s On in Wales by signing up to our newsletter here Like most boy bands at the time, Five were cheeky, confident, and complicated. For a while, they were unstoppable, racking up hits, awards, and adoring fans. And then, just as quickly as they’d rocketed to huge fame, they called it a day. On 27 September 2001, they announced their split, citing burnout, personal conflicts, and the relentless schedule that came with being one of the biggest pop acts in the world. “On stage, we were the best ever. Off stage, we were a train wreck," said Scott on ITV2's The Big Reunion in 2013. "Life in 5ive was mental. It was five years of very hard work. "You see the inside of a hotel room, an airport, a radio studio. It’s hard.” Bandmate Abz added: "I know there were times when one of them would be p*ssed off with another one (in the band). There’d be fights going off.” In agreement, Richie said: "We were difficult, bordering on being ar*eholes. We were delinquents." Over the years, there have been various attempts at reunions, some televised, some short-lived, and some missing a member or two, but the original lineup of Scott, Ritchie, J, Sean, and Abz haven't shared a stage since that 2001 split. That’s what made this tour feel so charged. It wasn’t just another nostalgic cash-in; it was now middle-aged five men finding their rhythm again, visibly enjoying every second. You could feel it in the way they laughed mid-song, nudging each other like old mates who’d survived something wild, and by the sounds of it, they did. In an emotional moment on stage, J Brown said: “Never in our wildest dreams could me and the guys have imagined we’d share a stage again. It really does show that, at the end of the day, love conquers everything. The love and the bond that these five dudes have, and everything we’ve been through together, has made this possible. It’s beautiful.” Sean Conlon added: “Back in the 1990s when we made this genre of pop, people did not expect for it to mean so much to so many people 25 years on. This is absolutely incredible.” This packed-out show proves that it really does mean something to so many fans. In recent years, the 1990s have taken on a warm, nostalgic glow, and many of us are rushing to snap up tickets to reunion tours of our favourite childhood bands. I think it's because for those who came of age during Britpop, Smash Hits magazine, and Woolworths singles racks, it feels like a lost golden age, not because everything was perfect, but because it all seemed less complicated. Our biggest worries then were running out of phone credit or missing TFI Friday. Now we’ve lived through a credit crunch, a housing crisis, and a pandemic, lurching from one global drama to the next. Is it any wonder so many of us are clinging to reunion tours like emotional comfort blankets? Revisiting a band like Five isn’t just about hearing our favourite songs again. It’s about rewinding to a version of ourselves that felt full of possibility. Back then, we measured time by album releases and chart positions, not mortgages or childcare. The world has sped up, splintered, and gone digital, but in that arena, singing along to “If Ya Gettin’ Down,” it felt blissfully analogue again, and me and my assembled girl squad were here for it. The 90-minute show spanned Five’s chart-topping career. The lads delivered a crowd-pleasing masterclass in pure, unapologetic pop. To be fair, the lads even dressed in 90s throwback threads, like they had stepped out of a time capsule. The sound was exactly as it should be, energetic, slickly produced pop underpinned by rock and funk. Five were always the British boyband with a tiny bit of bite, the ones who rapped as well as harmonised, and slightly heavier hip-hop and funk influences than their Irish counterparts like Boyzone and Westlife. On stage, that mix still worked beautifully. If Ya Gettin’ Down had the entire arena on its feet. Got the Feelin’ was a collective scream-along. When they slowed it down for the weepies, like Until the Time Is Through, the entire arena lit up with phone lights as the crowds gently swayed along. It was the full boyband experience: flashing lights, flames, tight choreography, live band, the full works, but with enough self-awareness to keep it from tipping into full-scale cheese. There’s something strange about hearing songs word-for-word that you haven’t played in decades and suddenly realising you still know every lyric. When the Lights Go Out, Keep On Movin’, Let’s Dance, the hits come thick and fast. You forget how many bangers they had, how effortlessly catchy they were, and how sharply they hit you in the nostalgia nerve. It’s also a reminder of how much has changed. Back then, music required investment: actual physical singles, cassette tapes, mix CDs, and tuning in at the right time to see your favourite band on TOTP. You had to earn the joy. Now, everything is instant, infinite, and on demand. The magic of waiting, of building up anticipation, of sharing obsessive love with friends, feels almost quaint. And yet, when the lights go out and Scott, Ritchie, J, Sean, and Abz are grinning at each other, it all comes rushing back. The five of them clearly had the time of their lives being back on stage together. They cracked up between songs, ribbed each other like brothers and stopped to thank the crowd with genuine disbelief and joy that this was really happening again. Of course, Five aren’t Fleetwood Mac or Bob Dylan, but they’re not pretending to be. They’ve always been the Ronseal of boy bands, doing exactly what it says on the tin. Formulaic? Absolutely. But also enormous fun, especially if you don't take yourself seriously (Gen Z take note). Hearing those old, and with hindsight, slightly bizarre lyrics, “Hard, I’m addictive, better lock your kids in, coming to your area, you don’t know what you’re missing”, shouted back by thousands of middle-aged women was pure, chaotic joy. For one glittery, sweat-soaked night, it was 2001 all over again. Reunion tours tap into that collective longing for a more innocent and youthful time. They let us escape into the past for a couple of hours and remember who we were before life got so serious. It’s not just fun. It’s comfort. For a few hours, the stresses of adult life, mortgages, deadlines, and endless emails vanish. You’re seventeen again, dancing like no one’s judging and feeling invincible (several gins helped, of course). Maybe that’s why the crowd spent half the night singing, half the night laughing through tears. It wasn’t just nostalgia for the band; it was nostalgia for ourselves and for the carefree teenagers we’ll never be again. Except for those glorious three minutes belting out Got the Feelin’, when or a brief, electrifying moment, Five will make you feel alright.
