So when does Everett True think was the golden age of Melody Maker? Surely not when he was writing a load of grunge-rock pieces for the paper? Still, the more dewy-eyed reminiscences about “the Maker” the better – it gets it out of people’s systems and they can get on with the real business of writing popcrit that means something beyond an ageing cabal of hacks and wannabe-hacks pining for better days. (And yes, I’d include myself in that, obviously). There is no more point in canonising rock critics and particular eras of magazines than there is in canonising particular records or artists or years: I have my particular inspirations, so probably do you, but rather than beat our collective chests about them let’s get out there and do something with them.