"Traditionally, it is the role of the museum to sort through a particular theme, idea or art scene or movement," they write in the exhibition notes, "and arrive at a proposition that will distill an idea down to a palatable, life-force-sucking antiseptic theory that assumes the audience's need for clean, easily definable and consumable product."

Well, far be it from me to engage in "life-force sucking." Certainly not on the first date. But I have trouble swallowing the idea that it is enough for the curators merely to celebrate "the unruly spirit, the gnarly soul, the dirt in the groves, the talent, the eccentricity, the beauty and the unappealing splendour of it all." Who has been handing out the acid-laced popsicles down there? I want some.