NOVEMBER PLAYLIST

1.  The Lon-Genes – ‘Dream Girl’ (1964)

Featured on Kent’s new Northern Soul’s Classiest Rarities Volume 6 which is an utterly essential purchase – best soul comp I’ve heard in a long time. This bunch of army lads cut this lovely ballad for Romark in Los Angeles.

2.  Alton Ellis – ‘Black Man’s Pride’ (1971)

Title track from a new Soul Jazz Records compilation “from the transitory phase in reggae at the start of the 1970s, after the exhilaration of Ska and following the cooling down of Rocksteady.”

3.  John Gary Williams – ‘The Whole Damn World Is Going Crazy’ (1973)

Williams recorded for Stax with the Mad Lads, served in Vietnam, then returned to Memphis. This is what he found. 

4.  Bottom and Company – ‘Gonna Find A True Love’ (1974)

Bottom and Company? Really? Bottom and Company Gonna Find A True Love? Was that the best name they could find? Fab stab of crossover Motown regardless.

5.  Bob Dylan – ‘Saved’ (1980)

Just don’t go near that Born Again Christian stuff was the refrain when I first found Bob Dylan. Was reasonable advice to a young novice but Trouble No More, the latest instalment of The Bootleg Series, shows what a rousing period that was. This live version of ‘Saved’ would’ve had them rejoicing in the aisles.

6. Daniel Romano – ‘There’s The Door’ (2013)

Just watch Romano sing this George Jones hit. Go on.

7.  The Pretty Things – ‘The Same Sun’ (2015)

Released a couple of years ago on their clunkily titled but impressive The Sweet Pretty Things (Are In Bed Now, Of Course…), this gets a 7 inch EP release in January on Fruit de Mer Records along with their version of ‘Renaissance Fair’ plus two late-60’s live cuts: ‘She Said Good Morning’ and ‘Alexander’.

8.  The Galileo 7 – ‘Live For Yesterday’ (2017)

“Today is just tomorrow’s nostalgia,” sings Allan Crockford. As someone who’s played to packed venues by dusting off memories in reformed Prisoners, Prime Movers, Solar Flares and cranks out oldies in Graham Day and the Forefathers you know where Allan’s coming from and wonder if in years to come his current band will achieve similar better-in-retrospect acclaim. Based on the Galileo 7’s new pop-psych offering Tear Your Minds Wide Open it’s a distinct possibility. Crockford has now cracked this song writing lark and with the Mighty Atom, Mole, moved to his rightful place behind the drumkit, the whole thing swings with justified confidence. Don’t wait until 2040, check them out now.

9.  The Lovely Eggs – ‘Dickhead’ (2017)

Donning their new magical cloaks, The Lovely Eggs were on tour this month. Two things became apparent: they have so many great singles they can afford to drop ‘Don’t Look At Me’ without it being unduly missed and new songs featured from forthcoming album This Is Eggland, including the supersonic, drive-by abusing, ‘Dickhead’ will only add to that impressive score.

10.  Mavis Staples – ‘If All I Was Was Black’ (2017)

Mavis tells us she’s got love to give. She sure has. Oh God, this is wonderful.

OCTOBER PLAYLIST

These babies have been getting a lot of love this month...

1.  Roy Brown – “Shake ‘Em Up Baby” (1955)

Jitterbugging and lindy hopping his way through monkeys, coconut trees, rabbits, shotguns, alley cats, hound dogs, roosters and chickens, Roy really does shake ‘em up.

2.  Sonny Rollins – “I’m An Old Cowhand” (1957)

From Way Out West, with Sonny on tenor and dressed as a cowboy, Ray Brown on bass and Shelly Manne on drums. As Rollins explains on the sleevenotes, he wanted a “loping along in the saddle feeling… I want the cat out on the range all the way”, and on this hokey old tune (see Bing Crosby’s 1936 version) he gets it and it makes me smile every time.

3.  Roosevelt Nettles – “Heartaches and Troubles” (1961)

How could a record titled “Heartaches and Troubles” by someone called Roosevelt Nettles fail? It couldn’t. A right moody atmospheric barstool bastard. 

4.  Jill Harris – “Baby, Won’t You Try Me” (1964)

I heard Nick Beckett play this on his Dr Gonzo’s Medicine Show on Fusion the other Sunday and it blew my mind. Jill Harris leads the raucous call and response with Dee Dee Warwick, Cissy Houston, and Sylvia Shemwell on backing vocals on a track which has hands clapping in the church and feet stomping on the dancefloor. 

5.  The Seeds – “You Can’t Be Trusted” (1965)

This previously unreleased take, recorded on 20 July 1965, finally sees the light of day on a new limited edition Record Collector 45 and, especially when heard in isolation, highlights how utterly unique and ground breaking Sky Saxon’s wonderfully warped version of the blues really was at the time. They’d have garage imitators by the thousands but The Seeds were originators.  

6.  Ken Boothe – “Moving Away” (1968)

Being largely ignorant to rocksteady I was only familiar with Kenny Lynch’s version but must hand it to Kenneth, this is fabulous.

7.  Roberta Flack featuring Donny Hathaway – “God Don’t Like Ugly” (1979)

This caught my ear in the pub the other night so had to investigate. I actually thought it was a later release due to the production but the vocals are great and the melody stayed in my head, even after six pints of ruby ale and a couple of Southern Comforts.  

8.  Guy Hamper Trio – “Polygraph Test” (2009)

The Guy Hamper Trio – Billy Childish, Nurse Julie, Wolf Howard – are joined by James Taylor for a rollicking slab of garage-punk-jazz, the likes of which haven’t been heard since Mr Taylor’s earliest forays with his own quartet.

9.  Bob Dylan – “The Night We Called It A Day” (2015)

Bobby was in good form at the Royal Albert Hall on Sunday. A few things struck me: (a), almost everything was post 1997’s Time Out Of Mind; (b), because the set is therefore mostly what could be called “new” material (notwithstanding some is now nearly 20 years old) Bob doesn’t feel the need to wildly reinterpret them; (c), both these things are very welcome; and (d), the half dozen tracks from his recent Shadows In The Night LP – songs previously made famous by Frank Sinatra given a pedal-steel arrangement – provided many of the highlights, with the style suiting Bob who put notable effort into his singing. As I’ve said before, there’s Bob Dylan, then there’s everyone else.

10.  The Higher State – “(Consider It) A Debt Repaid” (2015)

Folkestone’s folk-stoned garage combo in typically disaffected mood on their new two-minute 45, complete with acidic tongue, swirly organ and a jangle so sharp it’ll cut ya soon as look at ya. Released, I’m sure to their delight, on 13 O’Clock Records out of Austin, Texas.  

AUGUST PLAYLIST

1.  Champion Jack Dupree – “Bad Whisky and Wild Women” (1963)

Plenty bluesmen were convinced bad whisky and wild women would be the death of them. Were they bothered? Were they ‘eck as like. Dupree lived into his 80s, so there’s probably a lesson there somewhere.

2.  Dorothy Berry – “Ain’t That Love” (1964)

“You Better Watch Out” receives a few club spins but I’ve always preferred this more raucous flip which kinda sounds like a rhythm and soul take on garage punk.  

3.  Bob Dylan – “Desolation Row” (1965)

There’s Bob Dylan, then there’s everybody else. Seeing how Highway 61 Revisited was released 50 years ago today it’s only right to pick a track.

4.  Jimmy Smith – “Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby” (1968)

Jimmy could never claim his vocals were his strong point and the title of his 1968 album Stay Loose… Jimmy Smith Sings Again almost reads like a warning but it’s great fun with the organ maestro growling like a playful bear having his tummy tickled.

5  Merle Haggard – “White Line Fever” (1969)

“This one’s for all the truck drivers,” says Merle in his introduction before singing “White line fever, the years keep flying by like high line poles”. The version by the Flying Burrito Brothers is fantastic too, even if Gram Parsons implied a very different type of flying.

6.  Eugene McDaniels – “Jagger The Dagger” (1971)

Gene McDaniels was a long way from “Hundred Pounds of Clay” when he cut a couple of breakbeat-heavy albums for Atlantic: Outlaw followed by Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse which contained the circling menace of “Jagger playing a heavy game/ Free from guilt and he's free from shame/ Jagger sucking the source of life/ Slashing the pig with a horny knife.”

7.  Rod Stewart – “(I Know) I’m Losing You” (1971)

It’s unfortunate one of The Faces finest tracks and highlights of their live shows didn’t feature on one of their own albums but slunk onto Rod’s Every Picture Tells A Story instead. No matter, they soak the angst of the Temptations and in brandy and come out rattlin' and rollin', turning a loss into a gloating triumph.

8.  James Brown and Lyn Collins – “What My Baby Needs Now Is A Little More Lovin’” (1972)

This always strikes me as a bit of an oddity as Mr Brown and Ms Collins engage in a surprisingly light and nimble, piano tinkling duet. Very good though.

9.  Vic Godard – “Johnny Thunders” (1992)

I’m not sure if Subway Sect ever played on the same bill as the Heartbreakers but it’s quite possible. Either way, this 45 for Rough Trade’s Single Club saw Godard pay tribute in suitable style to Thunders, who’d died the previous year. Paul Cook drums.

10.  Captain America – “Flame On” (1992)

Post-Vaselines Eugene Kelly formed Captain America and their Scottish pop-grunge-stew was all the rage for five minutes until their Flame On EP landed them in bother with Marvel Comics for their name and, from memory, clothing chain C&A for pinching their logo. Under the title Eugenius they survived longer, signing – inevitably – to Creation but this song is the one which best recalls the lank-haired, oversized t-shirt wearing, floppy indie disco pint sploshing dance of the time. Admittedly that might not sound like a great incentive to check it out.  

HAND JOB ZINE: WHAT MUSIC ARE YOU INTO?

Hand Job Zine is a UK literary mag run by Jim Gibson and Sophie Pitchford with contributions from a range of writers, poets and artists from the margins. With six issues already to its name it's uncompromising in content whilst its design harks back to the punk DIY aesthetic of scissors and glue and a borrowed photocopier. Unlike fellow zines PUSH and Paper & Ink which focus almost exclusively on the physical page, Hand Job compliment their mag with (in contrast to its print form) a neatly presented web version featuring different content.

Jim contacted me recently to see if I'd be up for writing something about my "music philosophy", how important music was to me and my general attitude to it. I'm not usually keen on writing stuff to order but gave it a bash and the result was posted on the Hand Job Zine site last week. It generated a considerable amount of comment over the next few days, far more than my usual offerings, so I'll reprint it here. Details of how to get hold of a Hand Job can be found at the foot of the page. Take a look.

---- 

What type of music are you into? On the face of it a simple enough question but the answer is inevitably more complicated.

Back when I hit my teenage years in the early to mid 80s it was easier. We had clear lines of demarcation: mod, punk, psychobilly, goth, heavy metal, soul, new romantic, etc. The lines were so clear, the battle dress immediately evident, the question rarely needed to be asked. You could see the answer. Today, with the noticeable absence of defined "tribes", a common response is "oh, I like a bit of everything" which, when you get down to it, really means most people aren't passionate about any of it. Music is there in the background, stuck on in the car, added to an iTunes account. For me though, it's dead centre of my existence. It's an obsession, definitely. An addiction, most likely. It occupies nearly every spare moment I have. Outside of the drab, dead-end, un-music related job that gets in the way for 41 hours a week, it's music, music, music: not as a creator, but as a consumer. 

It's partly hereditary. Like most young girls at the time my mum took an interest in pop music and loved going out dancing but my dad was hooked on modern jazz, on be-bop, after his parents took him shopping as a kid in Hounslow and he came home with the Sonny Stitt Quartet album Personal Appearance in 1957 because something about the sleeve - a sharp looking Stitt fixing a slightly menacing stare into middle distance with his sax poised near his lips - connected with him. My mum hates jazz. That she married a man who could, and still does, merrily listen to the most out-there, way-out jazz he can find every waking hour is one of those mysteries of young romance. Dad's attempts at playing Charlie Parker, Ornette Coleman or Sun Ra in the family home - to this day - are futile attempts which only last long enough for mum to cotton on and make him put his headphones on. As kids, me and my sister would scream, "Daaaad, they're just making this up as they go along!" To which he'd answer, "And what's wrong with that?" Of course, in the way we all become our parents, I now drink real ale and recently bought a 1969 album by the Art Ensemble of Chicago, which is the epitome of making stuff up as four men run around a recording studio crashing, bashing, blowing and plucking as many disparate instruments as they could lay their hands on. And what's wrong with that?

My Sonny Stitt moment, the record that everything leads back to is the Jam's single "Absolute Beginners". Purchased from WH Smith's in Uxbridge, Saturday afternoon, October 1981, a couple of hours after they'd performed both sides of the record on Swop Swap on BBC1. I wouldn't claim it's a brilliant record, it's not even one of the Jam's best, but although I'd bought a few records already this was when it became serious. I'm fairly confident I can trace a line from almost everything I've bought or enjoyed since back to that record. That's one of the fascinating and rewarding things about music: how one song leads to another and how the tree grows branches and twigs.

The Jam gave me an initial interest in all things "Mod". I was twelve years old and via them there were new off-shoots to gradually explore: the obvious 60's Mod-related groups; well known 60's hitmakers; no-hit beat combos; US psychedelia and garage punk; UK pop-pysch; the catalogues of Motown/Stax/Atlantic; northern soul; rhythm and blues; blues; jazz; gospel; folk; as well as punk, new wave and small independent guitar-totting bands. That's building on a strong foundation. And for every artist thrown up in this haul it begs the question, who were they influenced by and who subsequently carried the flame? 

Quite how I was ever going to discover all this music, frustratingly out of reach, was a big problem. It still is, but the internet and the ability to hear almost anything immediately is a blessing. After leaving school I started work around the corner from the big HMV by Bond Street tube. Most days I'd go in there and marvel at the records and buy as much as I could. Flicking through the albums, if I wanted to know what The Doors' Morrison Hotel or James Brown's Live At The Apollo sounded like, I'd have to buy them. There was no other way. I remember thinking if I could have one wish it would be to have every record in the shop. In some ways the internet has provided that. Mum soon spotted me coming home regularly with something new. "You should be saving, not wasting all your money on records". Wasting? I resorted to stuffing them inside my coat when entering the house and quickly making a dash to my bedroom to unload the loot. One advantage of paying for music is it encourages repeated listens. Clicking around the internet today if a song doesn't connect within the first 20 seconds it's missed its chance. That's a terrible thing really, especially as the more immediate a song is, the less longevity I find it has. It's revealed its hand too quickly.

Songs and records were practically one and the same thing then. Although less the case now it's still my preferred way to experience music: in the format they were made for. To root around a record shop or market stall and travel back on the tube - in the same way I did with "Absolute Beginners" - with albums or singles in a carrier bag is a massive buzz. There's no real need to buy things without hearing them anymore but I still enjoy that leap into the unknown, that anticipation, that ritual of carefully removing it from the sleeve, of the smell, of the pop and crackle of old records. What's this going to sound like? There's a name of a previous owner neatly written on the cover or record label. What was their story? They must've loved this when they took it to that party in 1966 or 1976 or 1986.

Old records have a history. Each copy has had a life of its own, quite separate from any life of those involved in its creation may have had. Of all the records in my collection, it's the obscure R&B records that contain the most magic. Made by individuals I know nothing about. I could look them up these days, do a bit of research. Sometimes I do but mostly I like the mystery. Pulling a few randomly off the shelf now: "Rudy's Monkey" by Rudy and the Reno Bops; "Hey L. Roy" by L. Roy Baimes; "When Things Get A Little Better" by Oscar Boyd; "Son-In-Law" by Louise Brown; "Who's Over Yonder" by the Garden State Choir. Who were these people that made these 45s 50-60 years ago for small American labels? Doubtful many of the people responsible are here now but they've left something for us to discover. They've made their mark. Achieved something. Make a record and you live forever.

Each day is a fresh search to discover something brilliant I've not heard before and as time marches on there's that acceptance I'm never going to be able to capture it all. Ain't that fantastic? If I only liked mod or punk or country or soul, I'd have had this licked long ago. There's plenty of okay stuff out there but it's the big what-if-I'd-never-heard-this-in-my-life fish that's I'm always looking to catch. And what are those songs? I've been trying to think if there's a common thread between all my favourite records. They've got to have soul, I guess. By that I mean truth. They've got to be believable. In Bob Dylan's MusiCare's Person of The Year acceptance speech last week he quoted Sam Cooke as saying "Voices ought not to be measured by how pretty they are. Instead they matter only if they convince you that they are telling the truth." That's the key. It's only possible to have a true emotional connection if one believes what they're being told. Three chords, or more, and the truth.

When Gram Parsons recounts the death of his bride-to-be in "$1000 Wedding", I believe him. When Jerry Butler, after one more heartache, moans he's "Giving Up On Love", I believe him. When the Action sing about crying all night and the sun feeling cold in "Since I Lost My Baby", I believe them. When Howlin' Wolf growls knowingly about little girls understanding in "Back Door Man", I believe him. When Big Daddy Rogers insists he's got a lot of meat and is hard to beat in "I'm A Big Man", I believe him. When The Byrds "Feel A Whole Lot Better" when you're gone, I believe them. When Manic Street Preachers fire a barely decipherable assault throughout "Motown Junk" I don't quite know what they're saying but I believe they mean it. When Bob Dylan, Mavis Staples, Curtis Mayfield, Chuck D sing, I believe them.

So, tell me, what music are you into?

For more details please visit: Hand Job Zine

NOVEMBER PLAYLIST

This month I have mostly been diggin'...

1.  Cliff Bennett & The Rebel Rousers - "Slow Down" (1964)

The Larry Williams chestnut given a fat soul club sound indicative of their live reputation.  

2.  The Master's Apprentices - "War Or Hands Of Time" (1966)

This rollicking garage-punk single, with its A-side "Undecided", is the greatest thing Australia has ever given the world.

3.  Paul Jones - "Sonny Boy Williamson" (1966)

Paul Jones and Jack Bruce wrote and recorded this tribute to the man who made such an impact on the British R&B boom after this death the previous year. Tucked away as a B-side, featuring only Jones on vocals and harmonica and Bruce on bass, its simplicity is a far cry from the bombastic (and let's be honest, rather naff) "I've Been A Bad, Bad Boy" on the A-side.

4.  Bob Dylan & The Band - "Blowin' In The Wind" (1967)

There's a heck of a lot to take in - almost too much, if that were possible - in the 6-CD The Basement Tapes Complete but it's great to drop in for short spells to earwig Bobby and the boys having a sing-song. The woozy, bar room band take of "Blowin' In The Wind" is an immediate favourite.

5.  Percy Sledge - "True Love Travels On A Gravel Road" (1969)

Countrified Muscle Shoals soul. From the title, to the pedal steel, to the horns, to Sledge's rootsy vocal, everything here is simply magnificent. If you only investigate one song from this list, make it this.

6.  Kelly Gordon - "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" (1969)

I love the Hollies classic but check out the outstanding original version. Gordon's almost unbearably raw emotion gives it the kind of gravitas the lyrics deserve.

7.  The Stovall Sisters - "Yes To The Lord" (1970)

Lillian, Netta and Joyce Stovall began singing in the 1950s as gospel group God's Little Wonders aged just 5, 7 and 2 respectively. By the time of their only album the sisters had embraced elements of rock and roll into their repertoire and here, in a reversal of the more common practice, take a secular song ("My Baby Loves Me" by Martha & the Vandellas) and give it a glorious religious make-over.

8.  Archie Shepp - "Attica Blues" (1972)

Two weeks after George Jackson was killed in San Quentin, 43 people died during riots in New York's Attica Prison. The title track of saxophonist Shepp's Attica Blues is a righteous, defiant, fist-raising soul stirrer. With Henry Hull on lead vocals, it's as funky as hell.

9.  Five Thirty - "Out To Get In" (1991)

Last month I included Ride and they've subsequently reformed. Gonna try and repeat the trick with their superior Oxford neighbours Five Thirty whose 12 inch extra tracks were better than most band's singles. 

10.  John Sinclair - "Straight No Chaser" (2014)

Best known as MC5 manager, White Panther Party founder and counter-culture pot stirrer, Sinclair is also a poet, journalist, performer and major jazz head (check out It's All Good - A John Sinclair Reader for a good sample of his work) . On latest album Mohawk he raps beat poetry in an evangelical manner, backed by a small jazz combo, about Bird. Monk and Dizzy. It's passionate, warm and inspiring; part history lesson, part heartfelt tribute.  

DYLAN'S GOSPEL by THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS (1969)

As per most months, I was handing over a sizable chunk of my hard-earned to the Sounds Of The Universe record emporium in Soho the other day, when I became aware of a belting gospel song being played in the shop.  “There are many here among us, who feel life is but a joke”, I found myself singing along to a familiar song. This is cool, I thought, but couldn’t immediately place it. “What is this, pray tell, dear storekeeper?”  I enquired. Swiftly into my eager outstretched hand was placed a new heavyweight vinyl reissue of Dylan’s Gospel by The Brothers and Sisters. Oh yeah, of course, “All Along The Watchtower”. Originally released, I was told, in 1969 on Ode Records and produced by Lou Adler; all ten tracks are gospel versions of Bob Dylan songs. “Please place this on my pile forthwith”. And so he did.

For Bobcats with a penchant for big voices in little churches this truly is heaven sent. Adler collected together all the best backing singers in LA and recorded them in a specially set-up studio. He did a remarkably job as the production is fantastic; with a small rhythm section of bass, drums, organ and piano these sound pure backwater church not Hollywood studio at all. A quick squizz down the list of brothers and sisters in this choir reveals some familiar names: Merry Clayton, Clydie King, Gloria Jones, Patrice Holloway, Billy Storm and many more.

Nobody Sings Dylan Like Dylan, they say, and it’s true but I bet he was knocked out when he heard the treatment his songs were given here. I can’t pick favourites here, it’s all magnificent beatific Bobness.

Dylan’s Gospel by The Brothers And Sisters is out now on Light In The Attic Records. Here's a short film about the album.  

FEBRUARY PLAYLIST

The February Playlist...

1.  The London Jazz Quartet – “Fishin’ The Blues” (1959)

The London Jazz Quartet were Tubby Hayes, Alan Branscombe, Tony Crombie and Jack Fallon whose recordings were originally conceived as background music for film and television. Every time I hear “Fishin’ The Blues” I imagine a cute early 60s animation with a little man taking his rod out to the lake. That’s not a euphemism.

2.  Curtis Knight – “Voodoo Woman” (1961)

Like monkeys and chickens, records about voodoo are normally worth a punt and Knight’s creepy bongo and snaky sax led 45 is no exception.

3.  Brenda Holloway – “After All That You’ve Done” (1965)

A new Kent edition of The Artistry of Brenda Holloway features no less than eight previously unreleased cuts from Motown’s vaults. Is there no end to the treasure? It seems not. This Smokey Robinson number is the pick of the bunch and delivered with all of Brenda’s usual class and sophistication although I was disappointed she went back to her cheating boyfriend after seemingly enjoying giving him the brush off for the two previous minutes.

4. Paul Bearer and the Hearsemen - "I've Been Thinking" (1966)

Goodness gracious me, what a blast! Garage-punk in extremis. Fuzzed and turned up to within a whisker of the unsuspecting recording equipment's life. Fantastic name these five lads from Oregon had too. Sadly their only release. 

5.  Duane Eddy – “It Ain’t Me Babe” (1966)

Best and most surprising find record find this month is Duane Eddy Does Bob Dylan, a 1966 LP produced by Lee Hazlewood and released in the UK on Colpix. To quote the liner notes: “Eddy’s guitar romps and soars through Dylan’s brain waves – translated in this album into notes which build and explode into bar lines of enjoyable melodies.” Twangtastic.

6.  The Peep Show – “Your Servant Stephen” (1967)

As pointed out by Pop Junkie, the enigmatic folk-psych Peep Show on more than one occasion sound both lyrically and musically like a template for The Smiths, best exemplified on this Polydor single.

7.  Stanley Unwin – “Goldylodders and the Three Bearloads” (1968)

Now, this also begins once a polly tie tode. If Unwin’s bonkers gobbledygook on Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake isn’t enough then his 1968 LP Rotatey Diskers With Unwin provides more deep joy of a songload in your eardrome. Unwin’s versions of fairy stories are hilarious but the Q&A with a room full of journalists where he regales them completely off the cuff is nothing sort of genius.

8.  John Cameron – “Front Titles” (1969)

From John Cameron's music for Kes. Listening to it away from the film really showcases what an achingly beautiful (and terribly sad) soundtrack he provided. "Front Titles" is possible to hear with fighting back the tears, not so some of the other pieces. 

9.  BB King – “Just Can’t Please You” (1972)

Jimmy Robins’ barnstorming version is the best fifteen quid one will ever spend on a Hard Northern 45 (I might’ve just invented a new genre there). King, as expected, takes it at a more leisurely pace. Still pretty cool though.

10.  Wilko Johnson/Roger Daltrey – “I Keep It To Myself” (2014)

Daltrey starts off like Vic Reeves' club singer but soon settles down and the pair blister through a track first found on Wilko's 1989 Barbed Wire Blues. British R&B doesn't get much more thrilling than this. 

OCTOBER PLAYLIST

1.  The Moontrekkers – “Night of the Vampire” (1961)

When North London kids The Raiders auditioned for Joe Meek he was less than impressed with 16 year old singer Rod Stewart. Duly dumped, the now instrumental band were rewarded by creeping into the Top 50 with their first single, complete with Meek screams and a ban from the BBC for being “unsuitable for people of a nervous disposition”.

2.  The Vontastics – “Lady Love” (1966)

Do The Vontastics really sing “She’s a man and I love her so” in the first twenty seconds of this Impressions-style 45? No matter how many times I listen (and it’s a lot) that’s what I always hear.

3.  MC5 – “Looking At You” (1968)

Completed in 2002 but prevented a full release by Wayne Kramer, David C. Thomas and Laurel Legler’s documentary film MC5: A True Testimonial sneaked its way onto YouTube last week. There’s so much to admire about the MC5: their attitude, style, politics, wilful anti-establishment stance but what comes across most vividly from the bountiful footage is what an untouchable force they were as a live act. The original single version of “Looking At You” is the best studio capture of their sound.

4.  Bob Seger System – “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” (1968)

Was sent this song the other day and told it had my name all over it. How right they were.  Foot stomping, hand clapping, organ propelled Detroit garage rock. Tamer than the MC5 but then what isn’t? 

5.  The Eddy Jacobs Exchange – “Pull My Coat” (1969)

Funky just isn’t a strong enough word for this tough JBs style bomb.

6.  Leon Thomas – “Bag’s Groove” (1970)

There’s nothing Leon likes more than to break out into a prolonged bout of scat singing. A couple of tracks on The Leon Thomas Album break the ten minute barrier so first ease yourself in gently with this more manageable three minutes of shoo-be-doo-be-doo-wop gibberish set to a swinging groove.

7.  Bob Dylan – “Spanish Is The Loving Tongue” (1970)

This previously unreleased take from the recent Another Self Portrait finds Bobby gently crooning and tinkering the ivories. The ten volumes of his Bootleg Series alone wipe the floor with everyone else.

8.  The Kinks – “Nobody’s Fool (Demo Version)” (1972)

Written by Ray Davies and used as the title music for the second series of TV drama Budgie, starring Adam Faith as the consistently unlucky charismatic rogue/unscrupulous bastard title character (“I’ve bleedin’ stood for it again, ain’t I?”). The telly version was released as a single by a studio concoction christened Cold Turkey (thought by many – incorrectly - to be The Kinks under alias). Ray’s demo can now be found on the new deluxe edition of Muswell Hillbillies.

9.  Robyn Hitchcock – “Brenda’s Iron Sledge” (1981)

I’m unfashionably late to the Hitchcock party but what a wonderful discovery Black Snake Diamond Role is. If you like Syd Barrett, fill your boots. 

10.  Morrissey and Siouxsie – “Interlude” (1994)

I usually hate the early chapters of autobiographies but Morrissey’s incredible purple prose, turn of phrase and eye for detail about growing up in dark and brutal Manchester in the 60s and 70s makes the first 100 pages of his the exception. 

MAY PLAYLIST

Ten favourites for the merry month of May.

1.  Mahalia Jackson – “I’m On My Way” (1958)

Barbara Dane’s version was the big R&B club hit a while back but Jackson’s vocal on this and the rest of her Live at the Newport Festival performance is on another plane.

2.  The Rivingtons – “Old Time Love” (1962)

We have The Rivingtons’ “Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow” and “The Bird’s The Word” to thank/blame for giving us The Trashmen’s “Surfin’ Bird” but this honking, big voiced doo-wop stomper is their finest moment.

3.  Lee Hazlewood and Duane Eddy with his Orchestra – “The Girl On Death Row” (1960)

The first single issued under Hazlewood’s name and such an eerie record.  Written for a film which had its title changed on release to Why Must I Die?

4.  The Supremes – “A Breathing Taking Guy” (1963)

If you’re looking for a salacious Motown book Mark Ribowsky’s gossipy The Supremes: A Saga of Motown Dreams, Success and Betrayal should satisfy. Which Supreme had to be talked out of installing a mirror on their bedroom ceiling by Berry Gordy?  

5.  Clydie King – “Missin’ My Baby” (1965)

If Clydie’s unbelievably sexy voice doesn’t melt you then you must have a heart of stone.

6.  Little Richard – “Get Down With It” (1967)

An irresistible thumping R&B shouter from the shy and retiring Mr. Penniman.  

7.  Orchestra Harlow – “Freak Off” (1967)

Reminds me of a Latin Boogaloo version of “The Work Song”, which doesn’t sound like a hugely enticing prospect I’ll grant you, but this is worth hearing.

8.  Bob Dylan – “If Dogs Run Free” (1970)

I’ve been playing all Bob Dylan’s studio albums in order, one per day. It’s been interesting to hear them in that way – through all the peaks and troughs. Most I know like the back of my hand but the lesser played ones have thrown up some interesting moments (and some excruciating ones) like this crazy beat poetry jazz number on New Morning.

9.  Billy Paul – “Magic Carpet Ride” (1971)

An suitably uplifting soul-jazz workout of the Steppenwolf single. The full-length version on Going East is the one to get.     

10.  Paul Messis – “I Hate The World Around Me” (2013)

Much dirty water has flowed since I last heard and enjoyed an album of such authentic angsty teen-garage punk as Messis’s Case Closed. Out now on State Records. 

DOBELLS JAZZ FOLK BLUES at CHELSEA SPACE

Dobell’s Jazz Record Shop began in May 1946 when Doug Dobell’s father made space in the corner of the family antiquarian bookshop at 77 Charing Cross Road for his son to sell from a couple of cardboard boxes. Opening with stock consisting of just sixty records from Doug’s collection, trade increased steadily until 1955 when it became a dedicated record shop after his father’s retirement. The business would continue (moving in 1981 to 21 Tower Street) until 1992 when it went into liquidation.

An exhibition at Chelsea Space, curated by Donald Smith and Leon Parker, pays tribute to the shop which acted as a magnet for all British fans and musicians of jazz, folk and blues in addition to attracting all the big (and small) name visitors from America where their imported records could be found. Hipsters would hang out at "The Record Shop with the Club Atmosphere", discover music in the listening booths and find out what else was happening in town.

In 1957, Doug Dobell with Brian Harvey and John RT Davies formed their own label – 77 Records - to issue limited editions (99 copies) of LPs, EPs and 78s of emerging artists they liked such as Alexis Korner, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott and Lightnin’ Hopkins. 1963 saw a young Bobby Dylan record in their basement as Blind Boy Grunt on Richard Farina and Eric Von Schmidt’s self-titled album, released on Dobell’s Folklore off-shoot and is proudly displayed here (safely beneath glass).

Also on show are photographs of the exterior and interior (some great ones by Val Wilmer), the shop’s carrier bags, records, posters and even the original shop sign, opening hours sign and a record rack. One cabinet features a series of 25 photographs taken by David Redfern at the 1967 Newport Jazz Festival which were commissioned by Dobell’s and sold as a box set, Jazz Photo 67. 

David Redfern was there last night and gave a talk about his incredible career. He’s taken photographs of all the rock and roll “greats” but it was very apparent his real love is jazz as he treated us to a hour of his pictures and funny anecdotes about rioting trad jazz fans versus modernists, Louis Armstrong, Gene Vincent, Ike & Tina Turner, Marianne Faithful, Beatles, Stones, Nina Simone, Ronnie Scott, Buddy Rich, Miles Davis, James Brown, Jimmy Smith, Thelonious Monk, Dexter Gordon, BB King, Frank Sinatra, John Lee Hooker and dozens of others, right up to the present day. Still working hard David only last week returned from New Orleans after taking photographs of 83 artists in ten days.

Although reluctantly moving from film to digital photography old habits die hard with Redfern, pouring scorn on those who take 300-400 images in quick succession. “That’s not photography" he said, "that’s button pushing”. 

For more about Dobell’s – including a Spotify playlist with tracks from all the albums shown on their carrier bags (I'm sure I remember Monkey Snr bringing home plenty of these when I was a nipper) – plus loads of other stuff about old record shops see Leon Parker's British Record Shop Archive. David Redfern’s The Unclosed Eye, a collection of his photography spanning four and half decades is available here. Dobell’s Jazz Folk Blues at CHELSEA space, 16 John Islip Street, SW1P 4JU until Saturday 18^th May 2013. 

BOB DYLAN - TEMPEST (2012)

“Nowadays people know the price of everything, and the value of nothing.” – Oscar Wide, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

I went to a West End art dealer the other week to see The Drawn Blank Series 2012 paintings by Bob Dylan. They were in fact prints (or rather “Graphics” as they appear to be called nowadays) and similar to the ones first shown at the Halcyon Gallery in 2008. In numbered, pencil-signed editions of 295 they were on sale for around £3000-£5000. They depicted flowing rivers, fat arsed women, misspelt restaurants, bars, bicycles and - if the Van Gogh influence wasn’t clear enough – sunflowers. I wrote about his paintings previously here, and it still applies.

As I was leaving I was asked if I’d seen anything I’d liked. Not enough. “Well, these are only prints of course. If you’re interested in an original I’ve got one for around half a million pounds.” Oh right, pass me my chequebook. We chatted about Bob and how well his paintings and prints sell and how their resale price has already increased with collectors buying multiple works. Because they're an investment still doesn't make them attractive in my book but I must’ve somehow passed as a potential buyer as she gave the 38 page brochure (price £10) for free. I've flicked through it twice.  

Bob Dylan’s 35^th studio album, Tempest, is out now. The CD cost £8.99. For a man of 71 old Bob doesn’t sound a day over 701 as he growls like he’s battling Tom Waits in a throat clearing competition. It’s too soon for me to judge how it compares to his other 21^st century albums (they tend to be slow burners) but it has the same old timey, late-night, cigarette smoke and whiskey feel. I’m not keen on the last twenty-something minutes being taken up by a track about the Titanic and a soppy tribute to John Lennon, but there’s nothing wrong with the preceding eight numbers from the steam train chugging “Duquesne Whistle”, to the surprisingly tender and beautiful (yes, beautiful) “Soon After Midnight”, and to singing songs for flat-chested junkie whores in “Scarlet Town”.  Special mention to “Pay In Blood” for a set of Bob’s most savage lyrics.“I got something in my pocket make your eyeballs swim/ I got dogs could tear you limb from limb” and “Another politician pumping out the piss/ Another angry beggar blowing you a kiss/ You got the same eyes that your mother does/ If only you could prove who your father was”. Brutal.

Anyone looking to buy Bob Dylan’s art would be well advised to purchase his twenty best studio albums, a list that - a quick count-up shows - includes Tempest.

Tempest by Bob Dylan is released on Columbia.

BLOOD ON THE TRACKS by ROBERT A. ZIMMERMAN

If best-selling albums had been books instead, how would they have looked?  Christophe Gowans from The Rockpot has some suggestions including Dylan’s finest LP Blood On The Tracks imagined as a pulp-fiction novel.   I bought it as a postcard the other day but to see it amongst other titles such as Exile On Main Street, Horses and The Stone Roses check out The Record Books.      

APRIL PLAYLIST

1. Rosetta Howard with Harlem Hamfats – “If You’re A Viper” (1937)
From the opening line of “Dreamed about a reefer five feet long”, I’m hooked.

2. Leroy Van Dyke – “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” (1965)
The Byrds didn’t have a monopoly on country-rock Dylan covers. Van Dyke got in early and of all the many versions this is my favourite.

3. Tammy McKnight – “Take Away These Chains” (1966)
Tammy recorded two singles for the tiny New Orleans label Tune-Kel and was never heard from again. This was the second and as the title suggests bore more than a passing resemblance to “Unchain My Heart”.

4. The Four Seasons – “Watch The Flowers Grow” (1967)
The Four Seasons weren’t going to let the Summer of Love go past without getting some flower power action. Scott who?

5. Taj Mahal – “She Caught The Katy (And Left Me A Mule To Ride)” (1968)
Since hearing this song in The Blues Brothers as a nipper I thought it started “She’s complicated…” not “She caught the Katy…”. Katy, or M-K-T, apparently stands for Missouri, Kansas and Texas railroad. All makes sense now.

6. Parliament – “The Silent Boatman” (1970)
The first Parliament LP, Osmium, is such a crazy mixed up rock-funk-yodelling affair it’s hard to predict what’s coming next, not least on the final track, “The Silent Boatman”. Sounds more like a soul crossed Traffic than Funkadelic and is quite probably the only acceptable recording to ever feature bagpipes. Yes, bagpipes.

7. Bob Dylan – “George Jackson” (1971)
Black Panther George Jackson lived - how shall we say? – a colourful life, and died a bloody death trying to escape San Quentin Prison in 1971. Dylan was quick to record big band and acoustic versions of this which harked back to the topical songs he hadn’t touched for years. The acoustic one is the tops.

8. The Pop Group – “We Are All Prostitutes” (1979)
“Everyone has their price”.

9. Daniel Johnston – “True Love Will Find You In The End” (1990)
I've never bothered listening to any other Johnston songs as can't imagine anything could come close to the raw emotion of this.

10. Kurt Vile – “Jesus Fever” (2011)
I’m not totally sold on Smoke Ring For My Halo but there are loud enough echoes of J Mascis and Neil Young to be worthy of a few listens.

HAPPY 70th BIRTHDAY BOB DYLAN

As YouTube is a Dylan-free zone, here instead is a picture of the birthday boy enjoying himself, and a list of the first ten songs that spring to mind. If you don’t own them, have a word with yourself. Happy birthday Bobby.

Positively 4th Street
Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright
Sad-Eyed Lady of The Lowlands
Idiot Wind
She’s Your Lover Now
Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues
Ballad In Plain D
Not Dark Yet
Tonight I'll Be Staying Here With You
Love Minus Zero/No Limits

BOB DYLAN – IN CONCERT AT BRANDEIS UNIVERSITY 1963

This is a public service announcement rather than a review. It ain’t no use to sit wonder why babe, if you don’t know by now. A recording discovered in 2009 and previously only available as a box set bonus disc, Brandeis University 1963 now gets a merited stand-alone release.

Saturday 10th May 1963 and Dylan had one album in the shops, which scarcely hinted at what was to come two weeks later with Freewheelin’, when he’d enter the public consciousness in dramatic fashion. Here, low down the bill in a university folk festival, Bob has the audience hanging on every masterfully annunciated word. Within two short sets you’d think he’d be eager to showcase “Blowin’ In the Wind” or “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” but, luckily for us now, he opts for “Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues” and “Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues”, songs that wouldn’t even feature on future studio albums such was the pace and quality of songs flowing from his pencil.

“Ballad of Hollis Brown” and “Masters of War” is heavy, hypnotic Bob, but elsewhere it's jokey, playful Bob providing plenty of laughs, illustrating his songs with witty surreal adventures delivered with perfect comic timing. The aforementioned “Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues” tells of a New York boat trip that was cancelled after too many people turned up and the boat started to sink. In Bob’s fanciful version of a real event, he gets washed ashore where his arms and legs are busted, stomach cracked, feet splintered, he couldn’t walk, talk, see or smell, feel, touch, crawl, “I was bald, I was naked. Quite lucky to be alive though”.

Seven songs, over 38 minutes, less than five quid. Announcement ends.

Bob Dylan In Concert – Brandeis University 1963 is released by Columbia Records.

OCTOBER PLAYLIST

In the nick of time, October’s playlist…

1. Mary Ann Fisher – “It’s A Man’s World” (1962)
Predating James Brown by four years, Fisher served her dues as a Raelette so knew all about being in a man’s world. But for these two and a half minutes of gutsy R&B the world belonged to Ms Mary Ann Fisher.

2. Bob Dylan – “All Over You” (1963)
Even the crumbs from Bob’s table, dusted down nigh on fifty years later for Bootleg Series Volume 9, would make a feast for anyone else. “Well, you cut me like a jigsaw puzzle/ You made me a walkin’wreck/ Then you pushed my heart through my backbone/ Then you knocked off my head from my neck”.

3. The Action – “Just Once In My Life” (1966)
“I don’t foresee a rags to riches story for me“ predicts Reggie on this rarely mentioned Righteous Brothers song.

4. Doris Duke – “To The Other Woman (I’m The Other Woman)” (1970)
In true deep southern soul style Doris was proud to play second fiddle to another man’s wife. The hussy.

5. Reg King – “Go Have Yourself A Good Time” (1971)
This was heartbreaking enough already.

6. Chairmen of the Board – “Chairman of the Board” (1971)
The chairman, General Norman Johnson, retired from the board this month leaving Invictus with a stack of valuable assets. This 45 didn’t bring home so much green stuff but its bluesy funkadelicness contrasts nicely with their earlier handbag hits.

7. T. Rex – “Born To Boogie” (1973)
John Lee Hooker in glittery eye make-up, a feather boa, and with a gleaming silver tank for a cock.

8. Loop – “Soundhead” (1987)
For five gallant minutes Loop surge through the swamps of distortion and wrestle giant alligators of wah-wah.

9. The Silver Factory – “The Sunshines Over You” (2010)
A band that understand you can’t have too much jingle-jangling in your life. It’s simply not possible. Of the four songs on their home produced EP there’s barely a tambourine shake in quality between them. One to watch.

10. Belle and Sebastian – “The Ghost of Rockschool” (2010)
This and “Calculating Bimbo” from Write About Love have made me fall for B&S all over again – like in ’97 when I wore out the grooves of If You’re Feeling Sinister. Didn’t actually believe that was possible – but it is.

MICHAEL McCLURE at the LONDON REVIEW BOOKSHOP

Not many could stand next to Bob Dylan in 1965 and equal his cool but Harley riding, Hell’s Angels associating, long haired, unfeasibly handsome, poet and playwright Michael McClure could - and did - as illustrated in Larry Keenan’s photograph. And his rock ‘n’ roll credentials didn’t end there.

McClure was in London last week to read from his new collection Mysteriosos. One of the last remaining lights of what we now call the Beat Generation, McClure’s first poetry reading was at the most famous – and influential – poetry reading of the 20th century: the Six Gallery reading in San Francisco during October 1955. Jack Kerouac, in the audience and too shy to read, acted as rebel rouser shouting drunken encouragement and later wrote of events in The Dharma Bums (and also wrote McClure as Pat McLear in Big Sur). Ginsberg’s reading of “Howl” lit the fuse for a nationwide hoo hah but the event and contributions from McClure, Gary Synder, Philip Whalen and Philip Lamantia marked the arrival of the San Francisco Renaissance era of The Beats and gave it momentum to become a discernable movement.

At the Six Gallery McClure read “For The Death of 100 Whales” and his interest in nature, ecology, the environment, biology and science has infused his work ever since. He only read from Mysteriosos in London and answered a few (three to be precise) questions. I wanted to ask about his influence on his friend Jim Morrison (and vice versa) but only gingerly waved a limp wrist and the moment was lost. One questioner asked if he still saw the benefits of psychedelics as an aid to consciousness expanding. Not only did he unequivocally concur but he railed against those careerists who privately agree but publicly stay schtum.

Any mild disappointment in the absence of further questioning or readings were banished with the debut capital screening of Abstract Alchemist of Flesh, a new film about McClure by Colin Still. Still was there to introduce it and over 55 minutes blends archive footage with new interviews with McClure and some high profile names, notably Dennis Hopper and Ray Manzarek.

We see McClure reading to Manzarek’s unmistakable Doorsy “Riders on the Storm” keyboard. His texts can be difficult to absorb and comprehend on the page, yet performed in this way it gives them rhythm and you can naturally absorb parts without trying too hard to understand the meaning of each line. Both in the film and during the reading McClure is prone to reciting haikus then pulling an expression that says “Yeah? Think about it”, a tilt of the head, a raised eyebrow, a knowing look, “you get it right? Sure.” Nope. Sorry, haven’t a Scooby.

My planned question is partly answered by the Manzarek collaborations. There’s more than a touch of Morrison in these – or rather there was more than a touch of McClure in Morrison. There’s a great mid-60s clip of McClure roaring his poems to lions at San Francisco zoo. Those lions were no fans of performance poetry. The thousands of bare footed hippy flower wavers at the Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park somewhat more appreciative.

Notoriety came a-knocking during 1966-68 with the production of his play The Beard. Charges of lewd conduct and obscenity dogged its performances, including a run of fourteen nights when the cast were arrested each time. Dennis Hopper tells how the pair were sitting in a bar when one disgruntled theatre goer - not keen on seeing Billy The Kid go down on Jean Harlow - punched McClure in the face. According to McClure, Hopper didn’t need much encouragement to jump off a table to practice his newly acquired karate skills before (in Hopper’s words) McClure “beat the shit out of him”. Peace and love man, peace and love.

In 1970 he wrote “Mercedes Benz” with Janis Joplin and Bob Neuwirth which Joplin recorded three days before she died. Michael continues to publish and perform.

Mysteriosos by Michael McClure is published by New Directions Press.
Abstract Alchemist of Flesh is released by Optic Nerve (www.opticnerve.co.uk)

FEBRUARY PLAYLIST

This month we’ll let the artists speak for themselves. Some do it better than others.

1. Blind Willie Johnson – “You’re Gonna Need Somebody On Your Bond” (1930)
“Now its way after midnight, when death come a-creepin' in your room / You're gonna need somebody on your bond.”

2. Baron Lee and the Mills Blue Rhythm Band – “Reefer Man” (1932)
“Oh, have you ever met that funny reefer man? / Have you ever met that funny reefer man?/ If he trades you dimes for nickels / And calls watermelons pickles / Then you know you’re talking to that reefer man.”

3. Sonny Clark – “Cool Struttin’” (1958)
Pop goes the weasel.

4. Bob Dylan – “Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues” (1962)
“Six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other / Dogs a-barkin', cats a-meowin' / Women screamin', fists a-flyin', babies cryin', / Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'. / Maybe we just better call off the picnic.”

5. Funkadelic – “Mommy, What’s A Funkadelic?” (1970)
“If you will suck my soul / I will lick your funky emotions.”

6. Swamp Dogg – “Sam Stone” (1972)
“There’s a hole in Daddy’s arm, where all the money goes.”

7. Johnny Thunders – “Subway Train” (1978)
“I can’t ever understand / Why my life’s been cursed, poisoned, condemned.”

8. The Cure – “Inbetween Days” (1985)
“Yesterday I got so old, I felt like I could die / Yesterday I got so old, it made me want to cry.”

9. The Campbell Stokes Sunshine Recorder – “She Looks Good In The Sun” (2009)
“Fifteen sides of orange paper, covered in red ink / It looks good but, it sure is hard to read”.

10. Gil Scott-Heron – “I’m New Here” (2010)
“Met a woman in a bar / Told her I was hard to get to know / And near impossible to forget / She said I had an ego on me / The size of Texas.”

BOB DYLAN ON CANVAS at the HALCYON GALLERY

“Someday, everything is gonna be diff’rent, When I paint my masterpiece”.
– Bob Dylan, When I Paint My Masterpiece, 1971.

How does one separate art from the artist? Is it even possible or can art only be judged objectively (whatever “art” and “judge” mean) if seen or heard with no preloaded prejudices or preconceptions; if experienced totally new? Or do you need the back story? If given a tape of a bloke fumbling with a guitar and howling excruciatingly, and told it is Syd Barrett, Skip Spence or Roky Erickson it’ll be given some context and assessed accordingly. Given the same tape and told it’s by Joe Scroggins from Scunthorpe, it may simply be dismissed as shit. And what if you swop them over like the old switch trick of giving experts finger paintings by children and monkeys?

Bob Dylan’s paintings present this problem. If hung in a seaside B&B they may at best not be given a second thought, and at worst dismissed as gaudy cack knocked up by the senile cat-loving owner harbouring artistic pretentions. Hanging in a prestigious Mayfair gallery with his practised signature in the bottom corner they’re looked at through very different eyes. I mean, these are Bob Dylan’s paintings. Would I hang one on my wall? If I had a Mediterranean villa perhaps it would look nice, but mainly for what it is; for the possession, not for much else. Hmm, maybe this separation thing isn’t so hard after all.

Bobcats will be eager to interpret the work and pack meaning into them. Bob’s nobody’s fool and doesn’t reveal much. The pieces entitled “Train Tracks” display an obvious theme, stretching back to his self-mythologising days of being a Woody Guthrie lonesome hobo, scuffling along dusty railroads in one-horse towns, jumping passing freight trains. Even without that association they are the most interesting works but their very Bobness is reflected in the price. Yours for £450,000. Yep, half a million quid. How does it arrive at that price? Does Bob pluck a number from under the red sky? Does Johnny Ball? Do the gallery? Or if a Ronnie Wood abomination goes for X, a Dylan must be worth X times Y?

Other pieces depict a truck stop outside a diner, a fat woman in a pub, two ladies on a bed, a cafe, some flowers, and a view from a window. Stylistically they’ve been compared - according to the Halcyon Gallery spiel - to Toulouse Lautrec and Edgar Degas. If squinting in a poor light through your fingers whilst wearing sunglasses after a heavy night out, they do a bit.

The value, artistically and monetary, of “art” is been philosophised and debated by far bigger brains than mine. Bob Dylan has no equal in popular music, his Chronicles was beautifully written, his Theme Time Radio Hour is the best thing on the wireless, and he even managed the near-impossible feat of making a decent Christmas album. He’s got everything he needs, he’s an artist, but he has yet to paint his masterpiece. For us mere mortals, it’s good to know even he has limits.

Bob Dylan On Canvas is at the Halcyon Gallery, 24 Bruton Street, London, W1 until 10th April 2010. Admission is free but they won’t let you in if dressed like a hobo.

ICKENHAM by BALCONY SHIRTS

Ickenham is an unremarkable small town (or “village” as the locals like to think of it) in the London Borough of Hillingdon. Unless you’ve lived there you’d never have any reason to visit, although Keith Moon would sometimes drink in the Fox and Geese with his chauffeur Dougal Butler. That’s about the most interesting thing about it. I grew up there and in fairness it does have a few plus points: the militant residents association have kept the likes of Tesco and McDonalds away; the library is still open (scene of a some childhood escapades like riding my Commando up and down the aisles, smashing a window with football, and taunting Mr Librarian for his blue suede shoes); and at least it isn’t as scummy as nearby Uxbridge, as inbred as West Drayton or as backward as Hayes. And it has a water pump that’s been there since 1866.

The fine folk at Balcony Shirts have managed to commemorate this fact in t-shirt form by ingeniously marrying the pump to a line from Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”. I’m taking a wild stab in the dark there aren’t too many Dylan loving Ickenham residents reading this, but Balcony do have other UK towns and cities available, yet none so cool as this, although I do like “Sexual Ealing”.

Visit Balcony Shirts to see if your town is featured.