Oasis @ Murrayfield Stadium, 17 Jun

With an intimidating police presence, local schools locked down in anticipation of an invasion and a number of convulsing bodies already strewn across the littered streets surrounding the stadium, the occasion is more of a George A Romero nightmare realised than a rock ’n’ roll show.

Inside, the mood sours further as a solitary female steward is left to contend with three drunken thugs taking turns to kick a man in the face as he lies on the floor unconscious. Welcome to Oasis at Murrayfield: Far from the intimate euphoria of Irvine Beach in 95 or the dizzy heights of Knebworth the following year, this is a place where Liam Gallagher tries his tambourine on as a crown to pass the time while brother Noel rolls his eyes in bemusement at the roar of a crowd overpowering the PA.

With the fizz already depleted from last year’s Dig Out Your Soul, the Mancunian sextet (if you include the addition of Jesus Christ on keys, “we found him on the discovery channel” - Noel) roll out well-worn renditions of over-celebrated yawnathons like The Masterplan and Don’t Look Back in Anger with all the verve of a 400-year-old oak tree. Even Live Forever and Slide Away are lacklustre, merely ushering in the sinking feeling that this is a car crash that didn't need to be witnessed by 60,000 people.

At the height of Oasis mania, some used to snigger that they'd only ever rival Status Quo in the creative stakes, but Francis Rossi would probably piss himself at their apathy if he were in the crowd tonight. I am the Walrus? You got that right. Let's not confuse 'cool' with 'can't be arsed' ever again.