Dylan Jones: What is the point of looking at Elvis's rhinestone loo seat, or Jim Morrison's broken zipper?

There's been a lot of talk recently about the John Lennon exhibition at the New York annexe of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but having been there only a few months ago, I can report that the only exhibit of much interest was the old urinal from CBGBs, which had been plonked down outside the lavatories almost as an afterthought.

So when I was invited to a similar pop theme park, this time down at the O2 in London, my heart sank more than a little. After all, rock'n'roll really needs to be experienced in all its sweaty, sexy sequined glory to make any sense, doesn't it? I mean, what's the point of looking at Elvis's rhinestone loo seat, Jim Morrison's broken zipper or Marc Bolan's driving licence in the confines of a large Perspex box? None.

But the British Music Experience, situated in the dark recesses of the often-overpowering O2, is refreshingly entertaining. In fact, it's rather brilliant. Which it needs to be because, let's face it, if you're going to go all the way down to the O2 (aka "the tent in Kent"), you need to know that Prince is playing in the round, or that Led Zeppelin are reforming.

Well, at the fully interactive British Music Experience you can see them both, and more. It has some of the most coveted music memorabilia you'll ever see (David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust costume, Noel Gallagher's Union Jack guitar, Roger Daltrey's Woodstock outfit and a vintage – and dry-cleaned – Amy Winehouse dress) as well as the sort of audio-visual trickery that will transport you back in time to be in the crowd at legendary gigs or to eavesdrop on fantasy dinner parties. You can also develop your skills on guitar, bass and drums, practise your vocals and even hone your dance moves. Plus, there are download facilities, allowing you to access all of your favourite bits of the exhibition.

The BME is the result of five years work by the veteran pop promoter Harvey Goldsmith, and actually looks like it. So get yourself an Oyster card and head on down to south-east London. The Starman's waiting for you (David Bowie that is, not Harvey Goldsmith).

Dylan Jones is the editor of 'GQ'