Rick Astley

Drive-in Garden Party, Knebworth

This was very nearly the summer of the drive-in gig. A whole series of them was announced, with stars from Gary Numan to Dizzee Rascal playing venues like

Leeds East Airport. I was even looking forward to Tony Hadley at the Lincolnshire Showground. Then Matt Hancock locked down Leicester, and the party was over before it had begun. Newcastle Racecourse, with its walk-in cattle pens, became the live-music capital of the world. Down south there’s been hardly anything – until Drive-in Garden Party, a three-week experiment that finishes tonight in Tunbridge Wells, with Squeeze headlining.

I sample it at one of music’s stateliest homes, Knebworth. The sky is clear, the house glows purple in the gloaming and

400 cars sit in a field, separated by ‘private gardens’ for six – rectangles of grass, crying out for some John Lewis picnic chairs. One has a sign up: ‘Sue’s 50th!’

With menus by Tom Kerridge and stalls selling artisan gin, the ambience is more Game Fair than Glastonbury. It’s the first gig I’ve been to where you’re handed free popcorn, drizzled with balsamic vinegar.

Besides sunshine and sanitiser, socially distanced gigs demand two things: a stash of hits and a sense of humour. Rick Astley (left), ably supported by Gabrielle, brings both. The man with the enormous voice is endearingly ordinary. His idea of an opening gambit is: ‘Are you in the mood, you buggers?’

Playing for a whole-hearted hour, he crams in 18 tracks – not just his own singles but snatches of other people’s, including We Will Rock You and We Found Love. It can’t be long before he adds We’ll Meet Again.

He closes, of course, with Never Gonna Give You Up, which now feels as if it’s addressed to music itself. ‘We’ve gotta be safe, don’t get me wrong,’ Astley says, ‘but I also think at some point you’ve gotta come out and live.’ Amen to that. And Sue, if you’re reading, I hope you had a ball.