Sun, sea water and cement factories. Not your idea of Ibiza perhaps, but according to our resident mad Manc John Robb, this is the start of the suntan season.

SPIKE ISLAND, A GRASSY KNOLL in the middle of the rusty, shitheap cement- factory death-belt of the Mersey, was the unlikely festival point, the oddball official kick-off to the '90s. The gods smiled, kissing where the sun shines. Let’s hope there’s no bleeding rain.

A patient 30,000 did the support-band chore through Ruff Rough And Ready, a mixture of DJs peaking with ubiquitous Hacienda and Paris, lanky monk-haired Dave "£8 a song" Haslam and Konspiracy/Psychedelic Jungle's '60s spinner Dave Booth.

Gary Clail – backing with a big band gang, including Tackhead personnel, Jah "bass how low can you go" Wobble and African rhythm section – attacked the laid-back vibe with a snarling delivery. Clail's uncompromising verbal stance confused the pure pop addicts but still feet shuffled among big bad cynics from backstage and the teaming thousands of white T-shirt crinkly no-flare worshippers stage front alike.

Surprisingly, the Stone Roses hit the stage just before sundown, effectively scuppering the UFO-style light show hovering above their heads, the full arc power of which was not felt till the simmering dusk crept in mid-set. Pegging up the steps backstage, they looked like a posse with summat to prove after the disappointment of Ally Pally where they were scuppered by the muffled sound.

'I Wanna Be Adored', the first song they wrote and still the opening, insidious chug, coolly floated out, Ian Brown's voice almost a nervous creak, still only limbering up. From the back, the sea of faces and waving arms was an ocean of goodwill, but this was still an adrenalin-pumping, throat-tightening experience for any angel-voiced journalist, no matter how self-assured offstage.

'Elephant Stone' soared, kicking out any stiffness, the curious sound system ensuring that different mixes were heard depending on your position in the field. Cressa, back in the ranks, did his street cool Cressing thang, a dancing figure counterpointing Ian's almost awkward yet strangely effective wandering. Things simmered down for the loose 'Shoot You Down', while 'She Bangs The Drums' brought out the scarf wavers. Then came the new single, 'One Love', picking up on the '90s vibe and stamping once and for all on the coke fiend/stomp-on-yer-neighbour/greed-orientated '80s (some hope).

While red-shirted guitar god John Squire flicked styles from Hendrix to wah-wah wipeout – zigzagging between the Beatles and Santana in one verse – Reni, as ever, gave 100% on the kit. A total natural, the rhythm poured straight out onto the skins. The melody lines of the next two songs, 'Sally Cinnamon' and 'Sugar Spun Sister' took the crystal pop to new heights – slabs of three-minute pop history.

Golden oldie 'Standing Here', a backward B-side, preceded the key turning point, 'Fools Gold', the track that twisted their formulae away from the soaring chorus workouts of earlier International gig/warehouse party days. The flipside, 'What The World Wants', stretched out, grooved around, pulled from its slumbering vinyl role – more evidence of an early '70s psychedelic-phunk workout creeping in. It was followed by the unrecorded 'Where Angels Play', still in the first team, still a rest point and seemingly just there until the next album of material comes flooding in.

'Waterfall' segued into 'Don't Stop', on and on with the flow, Squire's guitar rising higher and higher. The band totally loosened up, Cressa switching dance shapes continually at the back. Ian sat on the floor, waving his mic at the baying crowd. The flipside of the June 18 single, 'Something Burning', was less ambient and less spooked than the vinyl version, yet again clattering on the 'Gold'-rimmed groove. Pop at its mindfucked best.

'Elizabeth, My Dear' put the Queen into its (gun) sights over 'Scarborough Fair' chord shapes, leading into 'I Am The Resurrection', the stunning, drawn-out climax that could go on forever, a spectacular firework display blowing out at the end. The summer had arrived!

John Robb, 1990
Sounds