People can be rather susceptible to relentlessly protecting the music of their youth, rarely more so than with that which is heralded as “classic rock”. There are those that made the journey from teenagerdom to adulthood spurred on by the deemed-legendary offerings of the likes of Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin that are content to draw the line there. “They don't make it like they used to,” they sigh, subsequently justifying to themselves that theirs and theirs alone was the golden generation. And their kids, too, parade their overthrowing of the status quo all over the Internet's numerous comment boxes: “I'm only 13, but I listen to The Beatles and The Rolling Stones!” It's a stigma I have a hard time shaking – for as objectively splendid as the output of 60s and 70s rock music epitomisers is, anyone who feels as though they've found the be all and end all of music is surely missing the point. Nostalgia just needn't be so self-serving.