The cover versions on Dream From The Deep Well include “I Know Who is Sick,” most familiar from the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Maken interpretation, and “Down by the Glenside,” which The Dubliners incorporated into their repertoire. The first opens the album, the second closes it. Between, amongst the original compositions, there is also an adaptation of Tim Buckley’s “I Must Have Been Blind.”

When the Queen of the Goths comes down from her castle to tour the UK, given that she hasn’t played here at all in the last 10 years, people take notice.

War might be good for absolutely nothing, but it does provide bands with some easy names. Before the War on Drugs headline set, Warpaint took to the stage, and despite a muted reaction to the quartet they were on enjoyable form. They’re unlikely to ever be topping the bill in arenas in their own right, but maybe that’s a good thing, and the funky closing double header of “New Song” and “Disco//Very” whipped by with pace and verve.

Pete Fij and Terry Bickers are bathed in muted red light. They are sat side-by-side, Fij with an acoustic guitar, Bickers with a vintage 1970s CMI hollow-bodied electric. Behind them, oil wheel lighting gloops and bubbles gently, bespattered with glowing green circles cast by the stationary disco ball hanging high above them. “It’s surprising to see how much life you can fit into the back of a van,” sings Fij, dolefully, then adds, “It only took two trips.”

“I hope they do Mardy Bum,” a small boy squeaks longingly to his mother. She was probably his age when Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I’m Not came out almost two decades ago. This is very much a multi-generational affair incorporating those of us who were too old to like them when they started, their peers now also in their mid-30s, and lots and lots of kids.

“It all started with a June 7, 1976 article in New York magazine about Queens, New York working-class young adults who flocked to a local disco in platform shoes and outlandish clothes to perform organized dances. [Bee Gees manager] Stigwood read Tribal Rites of Saturday Night, and immediately bought the rights from the author, seminal rock critic Nik Cohn.”

Of all the Scottish bands to be name dropped at a Chvrches gig, the Bay City Rollers would be far down the list. Thankfully singer Lauren Mayberry was only citing the 70s group in reference to her tartan outfit, and not a surprise cover of “Shang-A-Lang”, but the Glasgow trio do share another similarity, in that they’ve proved to have considerable staying power in the pop world.

The words “Mersey” and “beat” were first publicly paired-up in July 1961 when a newspaper titled Mersey Beat went on sale in Liverpool. The debut issue – dated July 6-20 1961 – was distributed to newsagents. Its editor, art student Bill Harry, personally delivered copies to 28 other shops. It was also on sale at local clubs and jive halls. The NEMS store’s Brian Epstein took 25 copies of the first issue. The print run was 5000 copies.

There was a youthful tinge to the jubilant chorus of “here we, here we, here we f****** go” that greeted Le Tigre arriving on stage.

“It takes a real effort to sound this small, this timid; to resist the effort to rock out and kick pedal. Singer ‘Amelia’ (oh yeah, I bet that’s her name) has spent her entire adult life pretending she doesn't menstruate. The rest of her band, too, look like the sort of fanzine autistics who still wear dungarees at 30”.