The organizers of the Glastonbury festival make a habit of booking the biggest names to play. I’ve been a couple of times, and I managed to catch the Pet Shop Boys, David Bowie and REM. And to miss Radiohead, but that’s another story. Its storied stages are such a draw to the big names that when Michael Eavis calls, they answer. Even Jay-Z.

This year, the headliners include such luminaries as Neil Young, Bloc Party, Bruce Springsteen, Crosby, Stills & Nash (and, dare we speculate, Young?) and The Prodigy. Primus inter pares, however, the name on everyone’s lips, the big draw this year is Blur. They’ve been on hiatus (why don’t bands split up any more? Seems like we can blame Pavement for this one, too) since 2003, when guitarist Graham Coxon left during the recording of their last studio album, Think Tank. But something – the money, the lure of Glastonbury, maybe just wanting to play together again – has brought them back together, nearly twenty one years after they first formed.  They are bound to be the focus of this weekend’s festivities; this isn’t their first show back, having played a few low-key warm up gigs, but it is the first time the world in general will have had a chance to see them in around about six years.

The big question is should people, and will people, actually care? Are Blur still remotely relevant? Clearly, there’s going to be a lot of interest for a while, be it from the nostalgia of those who were there first time around, or people who were too young to see them, or even those who have a mawkish desire to see them fail. Let’s be clear here – they have a massively strong back catalog, they are enormously talented musicians, and Damon Albarn can still work a crowd. These shows are going to be a lot of fun for all concerned.

But what’s going to happen when the novelty has gone? Has the world changed, or have they changed? Have their legions of fans moved on in the meantime? One thing that has always separated Blur from their peers (apart from their natural ear for a tune) is their capacity for reinvention, not in response to a change in the musical climate, but as leaders of such. When they started, they were a fairly unremarkable band on the madchester bandwagon, but sensing a shift in the zeitgeist, they swiftly became the Kinks loving group of Modern Life is Rubbish, Parklife and Great Escape, the three albums that pretty much defined the Britpop sound, and spawned a legion of imitators. Even then, however, they weren’t done, slaying the monster that they had created with the grungy guitar buzz of Song 2, a track that still keeps Dave Rountree in pints of mild to this day.

But what of today? Do they still have the drive to create, the ability to marshal their chemistry into something that’s both culturally adventurous and accessible? Or will it be more like the Pixies comeback; a couple years of excitement, and then a quiet slide into obsolescence. Clearly, only time will tell, but what do you think?