‘Glasto’ – the diminutive makes me shiver with distaste; like ‘Peely’ – as his fans affectionately called the late DJ John Peel, schoolgirl-admirer and all-round creep – it sums up everything I don’t like about rock music. I’m reminded of my years as a teenage reporter at the New Musical Express, coming home from some rancid punk club having pretended to enjoy the Drones lurking or the Lurkers droning, and dancing around my room to the Isley Brothers until the sweet soul music chased the awful white racket away.