They arrived at the dawn of the 1980s looking like they had wandered in from a particularly glamorous nightclub: all sharp suits, gold lamé, immaculate hair and enough swagger to make Spandau Ballet look positively understated.

Musically, they shared that early-80s fascination with funk, soul, disco and shiny synthesised pop. But there was something else going on with ABC.

Behind all the gloss were lyrics that were clever, literate, occasionally cutting and often wonderfully memorable.

When Fry was just 23, the Sheffield band’s debut single, Tears Are Not Enough, sneaked into the charts in 1981. It was perhaps an unrepresentative introduction to the sophisticated pop drama that was to follow.

Fast forward more than four decades and Fry is 68 — but the style, pizzazz and panache are still very much present and correct.

And so, apparently, is the ability to warm up a Glasgow crowd.

ABC at the Kelvingrove Bandstand (Image: Martni Williams)

“They said this was a smokin’ venue, they were right, Fry told the Bandstand audience.

There was no doubting that by then.

“Tuesday night is ABC night,” he announced.

And if Fry needed a little time to get into his stride, he certainly found it.

Once he had warmed up, the performance became a masterclass in why ABC were always rather more interesting than the shiny suits and synthesised grooves might have suggested.

The set was a glorious trawl through a catalogue that deserves to be taken much more seriously than a simple nostalgia trip.

Show Me got things moving before When Smokey Sings brought that irresistible Motown influence into the Glasgow night. Fry has always understood that soul music does not need to be solemn. It can be elegant, theatrical and gloriously infectious.

Then came Be Near Me.

Fry introduced it with a typically dry bit of self-deprecation.

It had, he reminded the Glasgow audience, been ABC’s biggest hit in America.

“In Scotland,” he added, “we sold 12 copies.”

Whether the sales department ever confirmed that particular figure was beside the point. The joke landed — and so did the song.

For me, Be Near Me was one of the moments that demonstrated why ABC deserve to be remembered for much more than The Look of Love.

It should have been a much bigger British classic.

Its success in America was considerably greater than at home, where it peaked at No 26 in 1985. And for me, its Munich Disco Mix was the version that really unlocked the song — a cunning, addictive reworking that could make it feel less like a conventional pop single and more like something designed to keep you on a dancefloor until the lights came up.

Hearing it live in Glasgow, without the remix pizzazz was still a reminder of just how effortlessly ABC could combine romantic melancholy with a beat that demanded movement.

There are plenty of bands from the early 1980s who can tour indefinitely on three singles and a chorus everyone remembers.

ABC have never really fitted that template. Fry’s songs are too ambitious for that.

The Night You Murdered Love was gloriously overblown in precisely the way ABC should be. That title alone tells you this was never going to be a band content with writing something called Sad About My Ex.

Fry ends this show with four songs from their finest album, the classic Lexicon of Love and those that were sat down earlier were soon on their feet,

Fry launches into Poison Arrow, and suddenly you remember – this was not ordinary pop.

There was something almost cinematic about ABC. Their songs had characters, plots, heartbreak, revenge and emotional twists. Poison Arrow is not merely a catchy chorus wrapped around a funky bassline; it is miniature romantic melodrama set to a disco beat.

That was ABC’s genius. They could make sophistication dance.

And with one song left, it had to be The Look of Love.

It is almost impossible to hear that opening and not be transported back to an era when pop music could be simultaneously sophisticated and completely accessible.

Released in 1982, it remains the song that defines ABC for many people. But hearing it here, at the end of a set that has taken in so much more of their catalogue, it felt less like a greatest hit being dutifully ticked off and more like the final chapter of a very stylish story.

The gold suit may have given way to the accumulated authority of 45 years on stage, but the essential Martin Fry remains: the knowing smile, the impeccable timing, the flamboyance, the voice and, above all, that belief that pop music can be both clever and enormous fun.

ABC at the Kelvingrove Bandstand (Image: Martin Williams)

ABC were always slightly too sophisticated to be simply a pop band and far too much fun to be considered serious art-rock.

They occupied their own wonderfully shiny corner of British music.

At the Glasgow Bandstand, Fry proved that corner is still worth visiting.

Martin Fry was 23 when ABC first began their journey.

At 68, he is still making the case that he should have been regarded as one of British pop’s greats all along.

And perhaps the greatest compliment you can pay ABC is that after all these years, The Look of Love still looks very good indeed.