There are two kinds of band re-formation. The first is so compellingly straightforward that the “classic” bands that haven’t done it now seem weirdly anomalous. You bury your differences, a process eased by the passing of time, the sagacity that comes with age and, frequently, the promise of a whopping cheque: if the past 10 years or so have told us anything about musicians, it’s that few things are as effective at resolving those bitter, decade-long feuds over guitar overdubs or backstage catering arrangements or the drummer’s taste in wives as the prospect of paying off one’s mortgage. Then you rehearse, book shows, and knock out the hits, knowing the crowd will be so overwhelmed by nostalgia they won’t complain even if your singer sounds like a man who’s clambered on stage at a karaoke night after six pints, wrested control of the microphone and started bellowing down it, the Stone Roses having apparently reunited specifically to prove this.

Alex Petridis’ tager en tur forbi det skibsvrag der hedder The Stone Roses, i sin indledning til en iøvrigt yderst positiv anmeldelse af det nye Blur-album The Magic Whip i dagens Guardian.