Live: Take That & Robbie Williams, Manchester 4 June

Take That and Robbie Williams: Progress Live: Manchester 4 June 2011

"Got a fist of pure emotion, got a head of shattered dreams,
gotta leave it, gotta leave it all behind now"

Where was I when Robbie Williams left Take That? Honestly? I don't remember. I remember seeing him looking gap-toothed and defiant on Glastonbury '95 coverage. Likely I was in a delicate state of my own making at the time.

I remember a relieved feeling of 'thank God I grew out of them before this' and a simultaneous repulsion and empathy for the tear-stained teen-girls on the tv a year later when what was left of our boy band sputtered out.

I needed to get away from them and so splitting up when they did was a blessing. I could move on with no guilt of leaving them behind. Inside I wished them well but on a daily basis I stopped thinking about them. We all had a lot of growing up to do, a lot of life to live and we needed to do it, former-fan and band, alone.

Time has that way of moving on and at some point looking back was not with a sense of embarrassment and a juvenile infatuation but with a genuine feeling of pride and comfort in the memories of the past.

Those years eroded the strength of emotion. The empathy for Rob, the one most like us at the time with his needing to get away, get wild and then get respected, wore away. Bitterness diminished his victim status. Things started to come full circle and where we'd let go to grow up we now longed to have them all back so we could relive that youth.

And they gave us that, and so much more. An infatuated heart beat a little faster again. It never felt as if someone was missing, but Rob was missed. But it felt like evolution. It seemed better not to let him go his way and we go ours. Always wondering if he would heal his rift with them someday, not knowing if in doing that it would come close to healing the one with us.

So, here we are, here he is, we're all grown up. Progress, as they say. But what is it? Is it him and them either side of a line that can't be crossed? Is it going Dutch on the cost of a tour with some old friends? Is it what it once was? Is it better seen without the spectre of the past?

Progress Live is confused and slightly disjointed. It has left me feeling much the same way. It's what we know now - the four-piece Take That exploding onto the stage thrilling and delighting with the visualisation of the way they do pop. The wonderment, the playfulness and their gratitude wash over you in waves from the stage. It makes you want to giggle like a child. The men before us are the boys we once knew.

But then it drops. It stops. Here is Rob. Doing what he does but to a divided crowd. I want to want him. It's not easy though when the cockiness has a little too much emphasis on the cock sometimes. That there is an atmosphere of those who have been betrayed and the child inside cannot let go their hurt. He does what he does and he does it well. His sweat falls on my face as he soars overhead and the faintest tingling of pride and familiarity stir within me.

Then the show starts up again. I'm not ready but this is happening. Where my heart screams for four my head registers five. I succumb to the moment unable to understand whether I'm supposed to be looking back or moving forward.

The sense of family is not diminished. It is still like coming home. There isn't the great rush I was expecting though. My veins do not throb with a sudden completeness but neither do I spit with hostility. This is the union of two separate entities - him and them - it is not the fixing of something broken. This is the completion of a pop orbit, but it comes with no guarantee they'll go round again or that the trajectory will be the same.

There is a formal hand shake with each of us on the front row as they head back to the stage through the crowd. The momentary holding of the gaze, the thank you from them to us, it all feels strangely final. Is this it? Is this not just good night but good bye?

Enough. It is time to let go and leave it all behind. I put my trust in them. The show will go on or it won't. They will be a five, or a four or they will be nothing but men. I've come this far with them, a shared journey on parallel paths, I'll follow wherever they lead next. But as we're still so young, I do hope for more.

I had to get the emotional shell-shock dealt with before I can even think about Progress objectively as a show. I'll post something after I've seen it in Glasgow next week.