Reading about Courtney's latest comeback from never having really been away in the New York Press freesheet, there's an intimation that Courtney's not here for the Grrrls anymore. That she's more of a thrift store Judy Garland, a skanky Streisand, an icon for queens and queers who like how she's a cracked actress, not an inspiring survivor.

But looking around Terminal 5, that seems like bullshit. There's a lot of girls, a lot of them grown into women, who are tremendously excited about seeing their Courtney. And their Courtney is the one who comes out on stage, on time and up for it, faces the crowd dead-on, centre-stage and roars out, "Slut. Kiss. Girl. Won't you PROMISE HER SMACK, is she pretty on the inside? IS SHE PRETTY FROM THE BACK?" then segues into the "pleased to meet you"s of Sympathy For The Devil. Courtney's telling us that she's not just a vilified satan-figure, but also part of a real rock lineage. And she proves it, sending everyone delirious with songs from her two solid gold classic records (Live Through This and Celebrity Skin). Her handpicked Briddish guitarist Micko Larkin and her band are shabby and awful, a mix of second-rate Brit indie merchants and drum-thwackin' session men. Courtney's job tonight is to reach out to her people, but also to cover up what nonentities the band are with her star power. It's like the inverse of Bob Dylan's band, where his big muscular musicians carry him when he's drifting off somewhere impenetrable. A lot of tonight reminds me of The Never Ending Tour - an icon bigger than whatever their last record is, fans bugging out to see one of the loves of their life, be it for the first or the 40th time.

Courtney's apologising to fans for playing the new ones ("You'll just have to deal with it"), even though they would be happy to hear her play just about anything provided she's standing in front of them. The California-era stuff is half as good without the Stevie Nicks harmonies Melissa Auf Der Maur layered onto them when Hole was a band not a brand. There's a break after 40 minutes, then a two-song encore finishing with just Courtney singing and Larkin playing just-about-competent acoustic on Northern Star.

She leaves and doesn't come back, maybe sick of the Jersey meatheads talking loudly at the back, maybe tired, maybe depressed that there's no more drinking and drugging to be done afterwards, maybe a little let down that she doesn't have top-class people around her anymore to give the music the same fire as she brings to just being Courtney. The crowd doesn't boo the shortness of the set (50 minutes for 40 dollars), but I do see a load of girls on the way out Tweeting their disappointment that she didn't keep the show going a bit longer, and I hear a young gay guy talking about how happy he was just to have seen her. I know which interpretation of Courtney I'm more interested in. I'm just not sure which one I saw.