Staying true to their post OK Computer resolution to minimise touring to a bare but intimate handful, Oxford’s most revered sons have chosen to play one single English date in 2001. And given the fact that this is their first show in their idyllic Middle England hometown in over five years, this one promises to be more than a little bit special.

Fellow Oxford superstars Supergrass put in a typically spectacular hi-octane performance, whipping up the crowd into a perfect pre-main attraction frenzy. Beck could have done with opting for such a festival friendly attitude, sloping onstage with two other guitarists and practically apologising for merely playing acoustically. On the plus side, he culls most of the repertoire from the Mutations LP which rarely ever gets a live airing. Still, this set would be far more suited to the intimacy of a theatre rather than this gigantic public park.

But as the huge homecoming heroes roar that greets Radiohead filing onstage shortly after half eight testifies, we’re all here to witness the most intriguing mainstream experimental band on the planet play a once in a lifetime’s show. But even Radiohead can be human. After a stunning opener in the distorted scuzz bass shape of ‘The National Anthem’, they badly fluff the intro to ‘Airbag’ as Thom Yorke offers a humorously self-depreciating “bugger!” They are visibly nervous, but this crowd are firmly on their side. In a matter of minutes, ‘Lucky’ is drifting into the hazy evening air and sounding absolutely divine. Amnesiac material such as the dazzling ‘Knives Out’ sits next to The Bends and OK Computer favourites perfectly. After all the initial shakiness and frayed nerves, they don’t even put one foot pedal wrong.

South Park is reeling, but also very, very wet. Radiohead may be musical gods, but they can’t stop it pissing down on their soaked disciples. However, it merely adds to the camarderie and the spectacular sense of occasion. A special evening befits a special climax, so they reward us with the first live airing of ‘Creep’ since they famously consigned it to the dustbin marked “Sorry, we don’t do that one anymore.” Jonny Greenwood’s legendary guitar clang sounds so loud and terrifying it could almost be a bolt of lightning sent to accompany the relentless sheets of Oxford rain. 35,000 people sing their hearts out… knowing perfectly well that they do belong here.