Knebworth looked, initially, like a repeat of one of those glorious festivals that marked the zenith of progressive rock development in the late sixties. The vast audience was sprawled across the English countryside, banners waving like a medieval battlefield, while the homely droning of Mr John Peel announced an impressive cast of musicians who used to be leaders of the so-called underground, and still retain their cult appeal.



The underground has long disappeared, rock has become big business and respectable, and audiences are now more passive, demanding slickness and professionalism rather than experiment. The Knebworth artists have all survived the transformation from psychedelic basements to sports arenas, and - in varying degrees - have become better known with the change. I rarely find myself mourning the demise of the underground, but watching them perform at a festival where things didn’t quite work out, it was depressing to compare the lack of fire or real enthusiasm with those crazy days back in the sixties.



The Pink Floyd escaped from the underground to pioneer vast-scale electronic theatrics and produce even more magnificent music. The enormity and complexity of their show now has its obvious dangers: on Saturday their set was almost wrecked by technical faults which forced them to leave the stage for half an hour of repairs. Their best piece, the new Shine On You Crazy Diamond, a classic Floyd mixture of stately, swirling melody and driving rhythms, was – somewhat ironically – dedicated to their former leader Syd Barrett, and dealt with loss of creativity and optimism.



Facebook Twitter Pinterest Pink Floyd at Knebworth, 5 July 1975.

Other artists were also mildly disappointing. The cult hero Steve Miller turned out to be a pleasant, slick bluesman with a good voice – but little more. Captain Beefheart looked older and more ill, and for some reason his boneshaking boogies and witty poetics had surprisingly little effect on the crowd. He, too, evoked the sixties: after a fine crazy recital was greeted in silence - “Are there no beatniks here? Well, you could always get drunk and pretend.”

