In today's Times, and built-around the Boris Johnson's sister band Second Person, is a piece about the rise of what, I suspect, we'll have to call Posh Pop.
Lloyd Grossman is wheeled on to explain:
Oh, good lord; it's not bad enough that politics has been overwashed with the privileged trying to suggest that we're all equal now, as if they're not being kept aloft by the pocketbooks of their parents - now they've come for music, too.
Of course, up to a point, Grossman's right: Kinky Machine were no worse for having been led by the son of an Earl; Kula Shaker would have been chased out of any right-thinking town if Mills' folks had been tractor drivers rather than actor-directors. But given that the Times found the class angle the most interesting thing to say about them, you are left with the feeling that if you don't have a guide to the bloodstock, all you're left with are a few rich kids who can afford the instruments and time off to have a jolly old time, with chums who have the cash to promote without needing to worry about the odd loss.
Suffering and poverty don't automatically make for better music, but when you're actually making real sacrifices to make music, that commitment can often be tasted in the mix.