The kids are all right

Some of the songs, of course, were intentionally anthemic.

could, with a sense of collective grief.

If you looked down on the spectacle from a sufficiently lofty perspective, it could be dismissed as therapeutic triumphalism, overpopulated with attempts at inspirational sloganeering and choked-up performances, all of which were heartfelt in the moment but still something that professional performers do tend to have on tap.

The concert deserves better than that sort of condescension.

It was an honourable and successful attempt to do some good. Attended, we might add, by another young audience, who this time had shown a measure of bravery and faith by showing up amid continuing spasms of terrorism.

Central to it all was the endearingly vulnerable presence of Grande herself. Though not a skerrick of blame attaches to the 23-year-old – it was the malice of others, combined with mere lucklessness that did the harm – this doesn’t in itself remove the weight from a young woman’s heart of the knowledge that so many people who are now dead or hurt would not have been, were they not also her fans.

Grande found herself caught between the simultaneous pressures of trying to provide support at a time of overwhelming need, while herself receiving overwhelming support. She did both with integrity, and if her performances were patchy, the surprising aspect to that is that they were sometimes pretty good. Not bad, for a stormtossed kid.

Some of the songs, of course, were intentionally anthemic. But as flaky old dramatist Dennis Potter kept reminding us, so often it can be the songs that seem insubstantial froth upon first hearing that time and experience tend to sanctify.

So kudos to Pharrell Williams who first declared ‘‘I don’t feel or smell or hear or see fear in this building. All we feel here tonight is love, resilience, positivity. I hate to be corny but it actually makes me ...’’ And then he sang Happy. A reminder that sometimes it’s featherweight music that most easily achieves uplift.