We are in the last years of a huge empire, one that was beholden to a myth woven around the miracle of amateurs becoming icons. At some point all the jesters suddenly expected to be kings. But the primordial soup that spat out the rockstar phenomenon was originally cooked up in the music hall – jobbing entertainers with their props and patter playing for a wage. There were big names and little names, there were hierarchies and egos and ambition but everyone in the end got paid for their act.