POLITICIANS are agonising once again about posh kids taking over the arts, but I fear their hardline policies will only tighten the squeeze on poorer youngsters.

And nowhere is that depressing trend more apparent than in the branch of culture that is most important to me – Indie rock and pop music.

The latest panic about this class divide came when Labour MP Chris Bryant bemoaned “a culture dominated by Eddie Redmayne and James Blunt and their ilk”.

Redmayne, an Eton-educated actor, kept his silence, but Old Harrovian singer Blunt memorably hit back – labelling Labour’s culture spokesman a “classist gimp” and a “prejudiced wazzock”.

There quickly followed the embarrassment of the BAFTAs turning into a head-to-head between Redmayne and the similarly privileged Benedict Cumberbatch (Harrow).

However, I’m most concerned about the private school grip on popular music held by Mumford and Sons, Coldplay, Laura Marling, Lily Allen, Florence Welch, Mark Ronson and their ilk.

I’m somebody who grew up on Johnny Marr knocking on Steven Morrissey’s Manchester door one momentous day, to form a legendary partnership of two comprehensive school boys.

And my 20s were lit up by the Britpop bands from similarly humble backgrounds - Oasis, Pulp, The Verve. Even Blur were not the posh boys that Oasis sneered they were.

Long before that, Paul McCartney grew up in a council house so tiny and spartan that it apparently shocks the American tourists who flock to it.

What’s happened to all these heroes?

That’s not to say there isn’t still plenty of brilliant music, but almost all great guitar bands are American these days.

The new British music I love is electronica, grime, dubstep, or similar – something put together alone, on a laptop, not by a band struggling with the daunting expense of lugging equipment on tour.

Go back to those Britpop greats. Liam Gallagher, of Oasis, was on social security for years before hitting the big time – as was Jarvis Cocker, the inspiration behind Pulp, and Verve frontman Richard Ashcroft.

But, from the Blair Government onwards, the screw was tightened to force young people to work or lose the dole, effectively used by some as a “musicians’ grant”.

When this started, Creation records owner Alan McGee kicked up such a stink that a Britpop scheme – called the New Deal for Musicians – was set up to nurture fledgling bands.

They were given grants to buy instruments and book recording studios and enjoyed time with industry mentors, in return for practising at least 30 hours a week.

More than 4,000 unemployed youngsters gained a foothold in the music industry – some to great success – but the scheme was quietly wound up by the Coalition.

Now things are going to get much worse, with David Cameron’s threat to strip jobseeker's allowance from 18 to 21-year-olds with no job or training place – and make them do all-day community work instead.

Labour’s plans are scarcely less draconian, despite the Government’s own evidence that such ‘workfare’ makes virtually no difference to employment rates.

This war on the young can only strengthen the posh kids’ dominance – and deny us the working-class musical heroes of our own younger days.