This is a picture of Robert Smith, principal songwriter and frontman of The Cure and sometimes described as the Godfather of Goth.
It was taken back in the 1980s when the band were at their record-selling peak.
And here he is on stage at the Manchester Arena on Tuesday night.
What hasn't changed is his voice. Just wonderfully, eerily, magnificently. hauntingly, brilliant - together with the band itself.
Have a listen to their performance of my all-time favourite Cure song "Pictures of You" by clicking HERE.
As you've probably guessed, Vanessa and I were fortunate to be there, together with a small assortment of friends.
The sell-out crowd was treated to a two-hour set with the parade of classic tunes from our youth predictably attracting the biggest cheers, mixed with an occasional sob.
In common with the Jean-Michel Jarre gig that I dragged Jamie along to a few weeks ago, the warm and friendly atmosphere was a key element of the night that I'll not forget.
Despite something of a stewarding mess-up which meant that some paying patrons didn't get to their seats or into the mosh pit until well after the gig had started, no-one complained, the bar queues were good-natured - and most people even washed their hands after having a wee.
Middle age is not for everyone. But a semi-sophisticated evening with The Cure is a definite plus which, three decades ago, I for one would never have foreseen.