As the crowd are waiting, smoking spliffs or throwing paper aeroplanes, a group of roadies dressed in white macs and flat, Anderson-tartan caps are busy around the stage. Microphones are checked, drums tuned, guitars laid out, connections secured.
One by one they enter and leave the stage, until five of them are left wandering around. One of them takes off his hat and coat. It's Martin Barre, in a green-and-white houndstooth suit.
Another one: Barrie Barlow, who takes his seat behind the drums. Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond, in a lime green, long-tailed, formal dinner outfit with bow tie. John Evan: standard issue ice cream salesman suit, pure white.
And finally, Ian Anderson, who steps forward in an Anderson-tartan frock coat, white shirt, black tights, and what appear to be brown suede wrestler's boots with footballer's socks tucked over the top. Stepping into a spotlight, he says to the audience . . . .