Yesterday evening, driving back from Marlborough, I listened to Robbie Williams’ last night at Knebworth, live on Radio 1. As I passed the venue itself I reflected that a third of a million Brits schlepping out to some old pile to listen to the King of Pastiche Rock was the lowest point in UK popular music since Beatles tribute band Oasis played at the same site in 1996, perfectly ugly examples of English “heritage” pop meeting English heritage. When Williams and the Gallaghers “perform” it’s the musical equivalent of unemployed northerners dressing up as coal miners for the tourists.

Actually, this might be an even lower point in British pop, but I haven’t heard it yet.