OLD rockers don't fade away - they just keep on playing, as proved at the weekend by the Live8 concerts.

The most talked-about performances in the festival to end poverty belonged to Pink Floyd and The Who, with Paul McCartney and Sting also doing their bit for generational rock.

Opinions about Floyd, as heard in this office, ranged from grateful amazement at how good they were, playing together 25 years after falling out so bitterly, to wondering at all the fuss about old men holding guitars.

Watching the evening session, travelling from Madonna to midnight, I caught the Floyd reunion and they sounded great to me, but perhaps it's a generation thing. There we used to sit, my friend Mike and me, aged 15 or 16, listening to Dark Side Of The Moon while drinking tea (extra strong, two sugars), occasionally choosing instead a Captain Beefheart LP.

Mike's a GP in the Cotswolds now and I've not seen him in years, so have no idea what he listens to or if he still likes his tea sweet and strong.

Probably not, as it writes a suicide note to the teeth. These days I favour pale Darjeeling, minus the sugar.

Rock music played a big part in growing up for my generation - and it's doing the same for my children (two teenagers and one in training). If the fans haven't let go of the music, many of the players haven't either, as witnessed by The Who's performance last Saturday, which stole the night for me.

The guitar-wielding 13-year-old likes The Who too, which says something about their enduring appeal, but what he most enjoyed was Velvet Revolver, a heavy rock offshoot of Guns'n'Roses.

Glancing over the rim of my wine glass, I made a disparaging remark about the noise and a joke about the guitarist with the corkscrew mop of hair and the fag permanently attached to his lower lip.

The boy has a smart mouth, which he must have got from somewhere (personally I blame his mother). Quick as flash, he said: "Well, if Van Morrison was playing he'd be behind a zimmer frame and when he started to sing his false teeth would fly out!"

Even middle-aged Van Morrison fans need a sense of humour, so I had to laugh. Then the musical nostalgia kicked in, and if you wonder what sound this mechanism makes, it burbles like an old British motorbike. Incidentally, I don't want to ride one of the dangerous, oily, smelly things, I just like the sound.

Watching Live8, and listening to my son's remarks, sent me all the way back to 1974 and the first Knebworth festival, which was advertised as a "bucolic frolic".

Our party of teenagers was drawn by a bill featuring so many favourites. I recall that Van and The Allman Brothers were there, and now, thanks to a quick Google, I can add Tim Buckley, Alex Harvey Band, The Mahavishnu Orchestra and The Doobie Brothers to the list.

Van was second from top, behind The Allman Brothers, whose music still appears in surprising places, including the theme tune to BBC TV's Top Gear (the version's different now, I think).

At the time, Van was one of my true musical heroes and, 30 years later, the relationship continues. My ardour has cooled at times, we've drifted apart occasionally, but always seem to end up together again, squashed up against other long-time favourites such as Richard Thompson, Ry Cooder and John Martyn - and what a concert it would be if they all got together.

Van played with a small band that, thanks to the obsessive nature of the Internet, I discover featured Peter Van Hook, Pete Wingfield and Jerome Rimson.

How useless is that information? Totally, but our pasts are knitted from such inconsequential wool, and at least I'm not a football fan, knowing who scored what on a rainy day 30 years ago - and what they had for breakfast beforehand.

In my memory, Van was great at Knebworth, although the NME described him as looking "like a probationary teacher on his first day in the science department".

These journalists always have to think of something smart to say. Memo to middle son: have you ever thought of becoming a rock music journalist?

Updated: 10:24 Thursday, July 07, 2005