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Tuesday, June 05, 2012

Must we throw this filth at our pop grandmothers?


I quite like noisy beat music. I've spent a lot of my life listening to it. However even I never forced my mother to listen to it. Had she lived to be eighty-five I think I would have objected if somebody had suggested that she be forced outside on a chilly evening in spring to be exposed to the full blown audio-visual assault of the 21st century rock experience as delivered by a load of people she'd never heard of and had even less interest in. And this at the point in the evening when, as every Peter Kay fan knows, all any grandmother wants is to be at home "getting settled".

Obviously constitutional monarchs spend their lives looking at things they have no interest in. That's part of their job. But most of the things that they are called upon to watch are brief demonstrations, not strength-sapping marathons. An open air rock concert, even one as lite and well-organised as last night's, is a test of endurance more than anything else during which 75% of the audience, if they're honest with themselves, are praying for the end. It's bad enough inflicting it on those who've cheerfully volunteered for it without forcing it on those who never asked for it.