It’s official, the proprietor’s palate has become jaded and faded. I have succeeded where countless glasses from the Stowells of Chelsea wine-box have failed. How so? Well, towards the end of 2023, when I posed to him the quarterly question as to what I should scribble next for the Prop Chron, I casually dropped into our dialogue that I was in Indio, California (as you do). There was an immediate response… and, dare I say it, in almost undue haste.

“Why don’t you write about what you’re doing out there?” Now, I did wonder if he saw the opportunity to steer me onto a different course, thinking “carpe diem” before I had the chance to wax lyrical about a bottle of Venezuelan Ribolla Gialla, aged in amphora, that had been recently consumed. And at least you would now be spared my regular discourse that has been developing towards doom and gloom (for the wine trade does appear to be battling more and more headwinds at the moment). Then again, be prepared for the fact that I am now about to indulge in my thirst for rock’n’roll, and at the slightly heavier end of the spectrum, too. We’re swapping one type of geekery for another.

So, Indio, CA, 6 October. There was a rather extraordinary event taking place whereby six of the biggest heavy rock bands of all time took to the stage to ply their wares over three days, two per night. Now, one might get a couple to the same gig, very occasionally three. But six? This really was going to be a one-off.