“You’re not meant to say that,” Francis Rossi tells the cagouled crowd huddled across Halifax’s Piece Hall concourse early into Status Quo’s show, after a call-and-response segment goes wrong. “You’re meant to say you’re great, or that you’re absolutely soaking.” Indeed, as the weather lashes down on the masses, summer appears to have taken a backseat. He grins. “We best warm you up.”

Few bands are as entwined with the cultural tapestry of late-20th-century Britain as the Quo. Among homegrown groups, only The Beatles, Queen and Oasis have scored more top-ten singles, and their epochal Live Aid slot remains entrenched in musical history. Even their penchant for double denim – long since retired for crisp dress shirts and waistcoats – has taken life of its own in the national lexicon. They are, to be frank, a treasured institution.

Of course, just Rossi remains from their golden Seventies heyday, the lone soldier steadfastly still at his post. Both keyboardist Andy Bown and bassist John ‘Rhino’ Edwards have been part of the furniture since 1981, but for many, it was Rossi and late co-frontman Rick Parfitt who remained the central focus of the band, until the latter’s retirement and sudden passing in 2016.

By the time the downpour finally slows for Rockin’ All Over the World – duly claimed from John Fogerty as the definitive interpretation for decades now – Rossi’s grin is practically etched in sandstone. “It’s brilliant to be here,” he says as they wind down with Burning Bridges (On and Off and On Again). Defiantly, it still is.