SEPTEMBER PLAYLIST

1.  Barbara & The Browns – ‘I Don’t Want Trouble’ (1965)

Straight down the line Sticks and Stonesy R&B dancer from Barbara and her Brown brothers and sisters for Stax.

2.  Chuck Jackson – ‘What’s With This Loneliness’ (1965)

What a voice, what a track, what a man.

3.  Nico – ‘These Days’ (1967)

I’ve always liked some of Chelsea Girl but struggled with it as an album until this month when, finally, the penny dropped. Might crack The Marble Index soon.

4.  Bobbie Gentry – ‘Recollection’ (1968)

As someone who’s only previously chicken-scratched the surface of Bobbie Gentry, the lavish new 8-disc box set The Girl From Chickasaw County: The Complete Capitol Masters is proving a revelation. Featuring her seven albums from 1967-1971, all remastered with bonus demos and unreleased tracks, and an eighth disc of live BBC performances, it’s packed with delightful diversity: Gentry offering her unique take on - and blurring the boundaries of - country, blues, soul, pop. The gothic poetry of ‘Recollection’ from her third album, Local Gentry, stuns and haunts in equal measure and it’s far from the only track to do so. Fantastic collection.

5.  John Williams – ‘Can’t Find Time For Anything Now’ (1967)

This John Williams was a member of the Authentics whose claim to fame was supporting the Yardbirds at the Marquee before Williams ventured out on his own. The A-side to this Columbia release, ‘Flowers In Your Hair’, is a good ray of sunshine pop with a hint of cynicism in the lyric. On the flip that turns into full-blown depression. The catchy cello parts subsequently borrowed (to my ears) by Thomas Fersen on his brilliant ‘Encore Casse’ in 2017.

6.  Mulatu Astatke – ‘Kulunmanqueleshi’ (1972)

Vibes, woodwind, wah-wah and subtle rhythms conjure sheer magic from Mulatu of Ethiopia.

7.  Caesar Frazier – ‘Hail Caesar!’ (1972)

This month’s funky soul-jazz Hammond groove spot is captured by Caesar Frasier.

8.  Paul Orwell – ‘Speak of the Devil’ (2018)

'Speak of the Devil’, the first taste of long awaited second proper album, Smut. finds Orwell donning a leather jacket to join a motorcycle gang for a glamorama glory stomper, leaving Carnaby Street for dust as he swings into Devilgate Drive. A horny Bolan boogie for howling children of the moon.

9.  The Coral – ‘After The Fair’ (2018)

The Coral save the best track until last on their middling Move Through The Dawn. This fingerpicking acoustic number embellished with strings prompted me to dig out Everything But The Girl’s version of ‘English Rose’ afterwards. 

10.  Paul Weller – ‘Aspects’ (2018)

True Meanings is built for quiet contemplation and nowhere is it more moving than here.

MAY PLAYLIST

Balls, ran outta time in May but this is a quick round up of some of the things spun in Monkey Mansions the last month. Healthy amount of new releases which is great. Check 'em.

1.  The King-Beats – ‘Same Way Every Day’ (1966)

Gloriously sunny pop from The King-Beats and featured on a terrific comp, German Measles: Sun Came Out At Seven: ‘60s Mod, Pop and Freakbeat from Germany.

2.  Eden Kane – ‘Gotta Get Through To You’ (1967)

An Australian only 45 from Kane now included on a 3-CD set from Cherry Red, Night Comes Down: 60’s British Mod, R&B, Freakbeat & Swinging London Nuggets. One of many highlights.

3.  Orange Deluxe – ‘Anti-Gravity Blues’ (1995)

I never really forgave Orange Deluxe (or the Nubiles) for not being Five Thirty but listening back to Necking it has more in common wit Paul Bassett’s previous band than I’d been willing to concede.

4.  The Bongolian – ‘Londinium Calling’ (2016)

Spend last Saturday afternoon down in Margate watching the Bongolian beat out funky jazzy instrumentals. Never been particularly sold on their records but unreservedly recommended as a live act.

5.  Paul Weller – ‘The Cranes Are Back’ (2017)

Ditched much of the squiggles and audio doodling (not that I’m adverse to those) A Kind Revolution is ten songs strong on melody. Forty years down the line and Paul Weller makes one of his best albums.

6.  Don Bryant – ‘I Got To Know’ (2017)

Don's still taking it to church.

7.  Daniel Romano - 'Roya' (2017)

The stand out tender moment from genre dodging Romano’s new Modern Pressure. Track of the month.

8.  The Primitives – ‘I’ll Trust The Wind’ (2017)

The Prims were on their usual sugar and spice form at the 229 Club on Friday. Super to hear a couple of tracks from their new EP, New Thrills, including this blockbuster.

9.  The Limboos – ‘Been A Whole Lot of Time’ (2017)

Exotic rhythm and blues from Spain and the Limboos’ second album, Limbootica. Simultaneously cool and hot. I'm desperate to see this lot live.

10.  BMX Bandits – ‘Saveoursmiles’ (2017)

Even though heartbreak and sadness permeate BMX Bandits’ world it always strikes me as a gentler and kinder place to live than this other world. From the wonderful BMX Bandits Forever.

APRIL PLAYLIST

1.  Los Aragon – ‘Zoologico Negro’ (1963)

No dancefloor should be without a touch of Mexican exotica with animal and monkey noises.

2.  Human Expression – ‘I Don’t Need Nobody’ (1967)

A messy production but haunting vocals from Jim Quarles and guitar playing that tears through to the soul with a million cuts prove here that garage punk doesn’t have to yell about putting-me-down. Their Manicsesque titled ‘Sweet Child of Nothingness’ covers similar moody territory on the flipside of an amazing double-sider.

3.  Paul Gayten – ‘For You My Love’ (1956)

Paul Gayten’s song was first cut on Larry Darnell in 1949 and as good as that is it’s his own pots and pans piano clattering New Orleans’ R&B that most excites. Unissued until Jukebox Jam stuck it out as a bogus Argo repro in recent years.

4.  Sonny Rollins – ‘Who Cares?’ (1958)

Who indeed? From the LP Brass/Trio, this Gershwin standard is the opening cut and the first recorded example of Rollins blowing with a large orchestral backing. The trio side of the LP is good but the brass side is great.

5.  Cleveland Robinson Jr – ‘A Man Goes Out’ (1965)

Robinson made a few singles for his local Cleveland label, Nosnibor Records, the best known being the superb and super-rare yet wonky ‘Love Is A Trap’ (feels like being on an unsteady ship whenever dancing to it). I’m also very partial to the smooth soul of ‘Mr Wishing Well’, which can be picked up for peanuts, and this one, the jazzy ‘A Man Goes Out’, the first release on the label.

6.  The Hygrades – ‘Rough Rider’ (1971)

Nigerian Afro-funk led by guitarist and producer Goddy Oku. Just check those mean licks and that taut sound on this irresistible instrumental groover.

7.  Fela Kuti & Africa 70 – ‘Expensive Shit’ (1975)

When cops planted a stick of marijuana on the self-styled Black President he swallowed it and the ‘evidence’ was only retrieved after Kuti had passed it through his bowels and the sample sent to the lab. On examination, it came back clean. Clever stuff.

8.  Five Thirty – ‘Barbie Ferrari’ (1992)

I'm confident Five Thirty’s Bed is the album I’ve played more than any other. For over 25 years it’s been a constant. Whenever stuck for something to listen to, on it goes and like a trusty friend it never lets me down. Modish power pop, throbbing sleazy blues, technicolour wah-wah, heavyweight looping drums, even one part that sounds like the Hovis advert; it’s got the lot. Album number two never got finished and the strength of this demo, which saw light of day on the 2013 reissue of Bed, we’ve all been robbed.

9.  Stone Foundation featuring Bettye LaVette – ‘Season of Change’ (2017)

It’s a fair bet Stone Foundation have in Street Rituals made the album many Weller watchers less than enamoured with his recent squiggly experimentalism will have wished him to make under his own name. The influence and contribution of Paul is dominant throughout (appearing on all tracks), echoing the laid-back soul groove of his debut solo album and peak Council meetings. ‘Season of Change’ hands the lead vocal to Bettye LaVette whose earthy rasp adds a welcome smudge to the polish.

10.  Kamasi Washington – ‘Truth’ (2017)
At well over 13 minutes the new Washington single isn’t going to be available on 7 inch any time soon. Despite the title this is no angry sermon but a breezy then soaring, heavenly journey from the acclaimed saxophonist.

DISGUISES - ISSUE 4

Fans of The Jam and all things loosely related may be interested in the latest issue of Disguises.

This is the first issue I’ve seen but enjoyed both its positive spirit and range of short articles covering a broader scope than expected. Among the features are a round-up of recent and forthcoming activity connected with Weller and his cohorts (news of Paul’s mooted television series is a tantalising prospect); a look at the enduring appeal of Mod; an interview with current artist Persi Darukhanawala who paints "responses" to songs; a tribute to Jam security guard Joe Awome; and a first-hand account of The Jam’s appearance on The Tube (as in Channel 4, not station at midnight).

There are also other bits and bobs across 32 colour A5 pages.

For ordering details see Disguises fanzine.  

THE JAM: ABOUT THE YOUNG IDEA. LAUNCH PARTY at SOMERSET HOUSE

Paul Weller and Martin Freeman

The Jam: About The Young Idea is a new comprehensive exhibition dedicated to one of Britain’s best loved bands. Or, in the words of Paul Weller’s father which greet entrants painted in huge letters, “The best fucking band in the world.” 

Whichever way you slice it, during their five-year and six-album recording career, The Jam achieved that rare balance of attaining huge commercial success whilst maintaining their integrity. Much has been written and said about Weller’s decision to split the band in 1982 but to have continued without his heart in it would have made a mockery of the band’s honesty and openness. It was the right thing to do and in keeping with their/his ethical code.

That doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have a little reminisce now and again this exhibition provides the perfect opportunity to reflect on those days. It also offers a look at what young Britain was like for many during the 1970s and early 80s. With the entire band and the Weller family opening their archive plus items from collector Den Davis, and curated by Nicky Weller, Tory Turk and Russell Reader it’s packed with memories.

The launch party was last night and thanks to Mrs Monkey’s contacts and the kindness of photographer Martyn Goddard and his wife Bev, we were in for an early view and to hobnob with an array of obvious and less-obvious guests. After passing Bar Italia Scooter Club’s line-up at the gates we wandered into the courtyard of Somerset House and a quick scan revealed, among others: Mick Talbot, Martin Freeman, Paul Cook, Glen Matlock, the Strypes, Gem Archer, Mark Powell, Jeremy Vine, Steve Craddock, Paul Whitehouse, Mark Lamaar, Matt Berry, the grey haired bloke out of Phoneshop, some Mods, the occasional female and, wait for it, Trevor & Simon.

Yet the very first person we spotted was Bruce Foxton and naturally we nabbed him for a photo and asked what he thought of the exhibition. He still hadn’t been in to see it. Bruce, probably wary he was going to get accosted all night, wasn’t very chatty and appeared slightly disorientated so we left him alone before I could ask him to explain that “Freak” single. As a kid I always thought he was quite tall but he’s not, he just jumped high.

After a few glasses of champagne it was time to mooch around the exhibition. It had everything you’d expect: items of clothing (boating blazers, Union Jack jackets, suits, bowling shoes, “Eton Rifles” jacket, boxing boots etc); instruments (row of Rickenbackers including the Wham!, the red one with “I Am Nobody” scratched into the body, the black one, Bruce Foxton’s white bass from “Town Called Malice”, Rick Buckler's drum kit etc); posters, fanzines and music press front covers; photos, badges etc.

All well and good but the real treasure came in the early rooms (think there were six in total) which had gone through Paul Weller’s teenage drawers and uncovered his early dreams and schemes. Like many (guilty) he’d drawn himself in cartoon format (“The Adventures of Paul The Mod”); designed early ideas for imaginary single and album covers (guilty); sketched a row of Black Power fists (“Right On Brothers”); and made attempts at poetry and songs. These were circa 1972-3, when Weller was about fourteen. He had it all worked out but unlike most of us dreamers had the steely determination to see it through. The family photos and pictures of a kipper-tied Jam attempting to entertain working men's clubs are a treat too.  

Martyn Goddard was a photographer for Polydor (starting with Queen in 1973, luckily he moved onto better things...) and worked with The Jam all the way from In The City to Sound Affects and chatted us through some of his work: the picture of Bond Street tube station at midnight, the In The City wall, strolling down Carnaby Street, his own jukebox on the sleeve of Sound Affects which he still has and uses. Martyn said he knew right from the start the band were special as they had something about them and everything came directly from them. They weren’t controlled by managers or external forces, it was simply them and they knew what they wanted. Although Martyn saw them progress from new band with a debut record to a having records enter the charts at number one he didn’t really see a change in them as people. It was noticeable in Martyn’s images that although Weller was the creative driving force the photographs were always of the three of them. They – Paul, Bruce, Rick – were a band. Martyn suggested Paul felt strongly tied to the fact they were a band and that was a contributing factor in splitting to allow him greater freedom, unencumbered (my word, not Martyn’s) by the other two. I don't think there's any argument in that. More of his work can be seen in a separate exhibition, Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries and in a new book, Growing Up With The Jam.

I wouldn’t have put much money on Paul Weller attending the launch do but he was there. There were scores of Wellers in fact. Getting access to him was nigh on impossible though as he was scuttled in and then out by security. He did grab a few folk for a hug, a couple of photos, a photo opportunity with Martin Freeman - who rather than prepare for his forthcoming role as Steve Marriott had come as Max Headroom - and then off to a secret hideaway away from pestering acolytes desperate to touch the hem of his garment. Not sure about the blue lensed shades but he looked fit and well. I cannot answer Mrs Monkey’s query as to whether he uses a spray tan with any great authority.

Back outside and on to the free beer we had a good chat with Paul Cook about the Sex Pistols and their contribution to Britain’s history; working with Edywn Collins; and getting the Professionals back together (Cook and Steve Jones, not Bodie and Doyle). Author and man-about-town Mark Baxter and I chewed on the idea of an equivalent Style Council retrospective, something I put to Mick Talbot shortly afterwards (I can work fast sometimes).

Mick didn’t really think there would be much call for a Style Council exhibition in this country but Italy or Japan might be more accommodating. Ever the Internationalists the Style Council. Like Paul Cook, Mick wasn’t a hoarder of stuff but did have a few pieces knocking around. “Haven’t you got a pair of your old espadrilles in the bottom of a wardrobe?” Mick couldn’t confirm that. I should say this was the third time I’ve spoken with Mick and he’s always been interesting and good fun. He also spoke about playing on The Jam’s version of “Heatwave” (I love that version) and memories of joining the band at the Lyceum to do it live. He sounded like a Jam fan, just like the rest of us.

The Jam: About The Young Idea is at Somerset House, London. Open daily until 31 August 2015, admission £9.50.

Golden Faces: Photographs of The Jam 1977-80 by Martyn Goddard at Snap Galleries, 12 Piccadilly Arcade, SW1 from 1 July to 8 August 2015 (Tuesday to Saturday), admission free.

Details of Growing Up With… The Jam can be found here.   

From The Jam. Bruce Foxton's attempt at reforming the band aren't going to plan...

MAY PLAYLIST

(The Royal Flairs and friends - not dead yet)

This month's selection box...

1.  Blind Willie Johnson – “The Soul Of A Man” (1930)

Willie’s mother died whilst he was a baby and his stepmother blinded him by throwing lye in his eyes after catching his father messing with another woman. Not a great start to life and his last days saw Willie’s house burn down, he and his wife living in the ashes, him getting wet, catching pneumonia, the hospital refusing to take him due to his blindness, and so he died. Still, looking on the bright side, he recorded some brilliant music in between.  

2.  Little Robbie – “I’ve Got Troubles Of My Own” (1964)

I’ve had this slow burning 45 for years but still can’t find out anything about Little Robbie, yet this is ideally suited to the R&B dancefloor of today with its pace sympathetic to the needs of the more mature dancer.

3.  Rosco & Barbara – “It Ain’t Right” (1965)

Wonderfully raucous rhythm and soul duet on Old Town Records with full bloodied vocals from Rosco Gordon and his wife Barbara Kerr, punchy horns, thumping drums and dancing piano.  

4.  A. K. Salim – “Afrika (Africa)” (1965)

Ahmad Khatab Salim was a successful big-band writer and arranger during the 1950s (a broken jaw putting pay to any earlier ambitions as reed player) and after a period of quiet re-emerged in 1965 with Afro-Soul/Drum Orgy, an album of off-the-cuff, completely spontaneous recordings attempting to capture the band’s impression of the sound of Africa, with the drums and the horns “really having a conversation, not just playing in a traditional way”.  

5.  The Syndicate – “The Egyptian Thing” (1965)

Shooting straight outta Los Angeles we have this gravel throated, blues wailin’, sonic powered, garage punk rocket. You get the picture. No idea where the Egyptian angle comes in. Dot Records were suitably impressed and began to record an album on the boys but it never surfaced and they spilt the following year. Shame.  

6.  Edwin Starr – “Has It Happened To You Yet?” (1967)

Same backing track as his Ric-Tic label mate JJ Barnes’s northern soul classic “Sweet Sherry” (who co-wrote the song with producer Don Davis), this lay gathering dust in the vaults for 30 years. With quality like this it was little wonder Berry Gordy gobbled up Ric-Tic for his own empire.

7.  The Royal Flairs – “Suicide” (1966)

Primitive garage 45 with lead singer Bob Everhart offering to follow the unexpected suicide of his loved one (although in the true tradition of garage-punk they’d both done each other wrong). The guitar and harp are fantastic. Everhart nearly did achieve an early death when he was shot in a nightclub protecting a 350-pound go-go dancer, Miss Temptation, from the advances of a crazy customer, the bullet grazing his skull and taking a bit with it. Poor Bob came to at the hospital, turned to his side, saw a fella with his throat cut and promptly passed out again. The surf-instrumental flip of this 45 for Marina Records from Chicago was, appropriately enough, “One Pine Box”.

8.  Reuben Wilson – “Superfly” (1974)

The near-obligatory Curtis Mayfield cover in the monthly playlist goes this time to Reuben Wilson for his super funky Hammond version from the LP The Cisco Kid, released on the aptly named Groove Merchant Records. Wilson is puffing on a big cigar and looking dead pleased with himself on the sleeve, as well he might.

9.  Paul Weller – “Saturns Pattern” (2015)

On his previous album Lord Welly of Woking spelt Sonic with a “k”, and now banishes the annoying apostrophe to his bin of unwanted clutter just because he doesn’t like the look of it. This is a man who plays by his own rulez. Saturns Pattern follows the shape of Weller’s more recent output: sounds which jump and twist into unexpected areas rather than follow a simple straight forward song for geezers travelling on buses to whistle. It’s an approach I salute and one Weller wears well.

10.  Saun and Starr – “Look Closer (Can’t You See The Signs)” (2015)

Sharon Jones’s backing singers Saundra Williams and Starr Duncan-Lowe move into the spotlight backed by the unmistakable tight-funk snap of Dap-Kings. Has a real old Acid Jazz vibe to it. Think summer barbeques, stripy t-shirts, love beads, South American bottled beer.

THE JAM in SMASH HITS

Rummaging in the back of a wardrobe in my childhood bedroom I came across a long forgotten collection of Jam posters. Some were so thoroughly forgotten seeing them now only brought back the tiniest flicker of remembrance. These four here though, pulled from the pages of Smash Hits between October 1981 and December 1982, are clear as day. They represent precisely the period of the band's career I was aware of and experienced first hand, albeit from a distance - I never saw them live.

The Jam meant the world to me then and stuck with Blu-Tac to my walls and cupboard doors these "song words", as Smash Hits called them , were quickly committed to memory, where they've remained ever since. The phrase "Repeat chorus and ad lib to fade" entering common parlance to folk of a certain age whose reading matter was still confined to the pages of Britain's glossiest pop mag.

I recall being very annoyed with Smash Hits for their treatment of "Beat Surrender". Here was the Jam's swansong and they gave it the laziest piece of non-design artwork in the history of the mag. Look at it, shocking.

ABOUT THE YOUNG IDEA: THE JAM - SETTING SONS (SUPER DELUXE EDITION) and LIVE AT THE BRIGHTON CENTRE (1979)

It’s 15 December 1979 and The Jam are in Brighton seeing out their most successful year to date with a gig promoting their fourth album, Setting Sons. Thirty seconds into the penultimate song of the night and “Heatwave” begins to collapse around them as fans clamber on stage. There’s a cry of “wanker” in the background before Paul Weller spits into the mic, “You can get the kids off stage but don’t fucking smash ‘em about, all right.” These kids are his people and loyalty works both ways. With his bitterness rising there’s more frustrated swearing and then “Fuck ‘Heatwave’, fuck the lot of it”. Knuckles tighten. The tension rises. Some more shits and fucks and a seething Weller slashes his guitar strings through an incendiary “’A’ Bomb in Wardour Street” that ends a show that for over 70 minutes bristled with fire and intensity.

There are many reasons to be thankful The Jam have never reformed and hearing how passionately driven they were during this 21-song gig included in the new 4-disc Setting Sons: The Super Deluxe Edition is a particularly compelling one. In three years’ time the band spilt when Weller’s heart wasn’t in it and there’s been no going back. One can’t recreate the past (okay, I’m talking about the band at the centre of a mod revival here but bear with me) and one definitely can’t recapture that special youthful idealism and arrogance as Weller, then only 21, was already perceptive enough to realise. The themes of age and aging and change peppered his lyrics throughout The Jam’s lifetime, right from their first single, but were especially prevalent during ’79 both with Setting Sons and the stand-alone single “When You’re Young” which warned the band’s young following their dreams and optimism of being grown up would soon be smashed when they realised the world was their oyster but their future a clam. Thanks Paul.  

It’s a toss-up between Setting Sons and The Gift as to my favourite Jam album but I don’t often listen to either often – there’s too much new stuff to discover than to spend time raking over old coals - yet being immersed in this set for the last week has been hugely rewarding to rediscover how good The Jam were, especially during this period. It’s easy to forget, to take them for granted. Weller’s lyrics on “Private Hell”, “Burning Sky”, “Wasteland” etc are among the best of his career and The Jam solidified their sound.

Much of the album, the best parts, was a semi-materialised concept about three reunited friends looking at how their lives had changed from the days when they thought they’d stick together for all time; before faces that were once so beautiful became barely recognisable and the men got bald and fat. All that felt an impossibly long way into the future for the kids at the Brighton Centre but young Weller saw it coming.

Disc 1 of this Super Deluxe Edition is the standard Setting Sons album plus eight non-album period singles and B-sides – “Strange Town”, “When You’re Young”, “The Eton Rifles” (slightly different to album version; basically shorter) and “Going Underground” which, with “Dreams of Children,” really belongs with Sound Affects. In Tony Fletcher’s memoir Boy About Town he recalls his classmates celebrating “Going Underground” hitting number one as if their team had won the cup. It was a scene replicated across schools in the UK. They – band and audience – had done it. It was a band for the kids but not a kids’ band. 

Disc 2 features 18 demos and alternate versions – 14 previously unreleased – and a John Peel session. Fourteen unreleased tracks sounds tempting but don’t expect too many surprises. For the most part they are rough and ready run-throughs; Weller the focus with perfunctory bass and drums. Not much changes other than extra oomph by the final versions, although one take of “Strange Town” has an almost ska rhythm which fortunately disappeared before it made the shops. There are two unfamiliar titles - “Simon” and “Along The Grove” - which unless I’ve missed something will be new to most. “Simon” is a sedately paced song about a shy schoolboy due to start work. There’s a kernel of a decent song there but some of the lyrics are a bit clunky and even if it had been finished would’ve struggled to find space on Setting Sons. “Along The Grove” is far superior. Packed with poetic lines it tells of a lonely, alienated man returning from war considering suicide; it’s haunting, affecting and would’ve sat perfectly on the album. The demo here isn’t complete and Weller growls in frustration as it falls away. Tantalising.    

The Brighton Centre gig is disc 3 and is also available in its own right as a stand-alone 2-LP vinyl edition. For me it’s central to the package and well worth getting hold of. I never had the pleasure of seeing The Jam (it still rankles me that others at school, far less deserving, did so) but there a moments which gave me a shiver in the same way Dig The New Breed did in ’83 when I spent hours listening to it whilst perfecting those illustrations on the sleeve of Paul, Bruce and Rick to adore school books and every available blank space.

Disc 4 is a DVD of the promo videos, six Top of the Pops performances and two clips from Something Else. The box also includes a hardback 70-page book with cuttings, new interviews and rare photos; four prints; a replica 1979 tour programme; a replica 1979 fan club magazine; a teas maid; set of oven gloves; a fondue set and a cuddly toy. I’ve only had access to the music so can’t comment on how worthwhile this stuff is but if you’re a middle aged man in need of a black and white photo of Rick Buckler than I’d start worrying. The Jam were always conscious about giving value for money, not filling their albums with singles, so to have sets packed with useless paraphernalia like this to increase the sale price, when all that really matters is the music, does stick in the craw a bit.     

The Jam drew a clear distinction between us and them; between young and old; rich and poor; the classes; even length of hair or whether people were in employment. Weller in Brighton snidely introduces “Smithers-Jones” as being “for anyone with long hair and who works”, which was harsh on Bruce Foxton. The irony now of course is age has meant a switch of sides for many but for The Jam, forever stuck in 1977-82, aged 18-23, they’ve kept their passion, their soul, their fire. Whatever the softening in some of Paul Weller’s attitudes and integrity over the years – even he’s not immune to compromise and the shifting priorities of age - he’s resolutely stuck to his guns and kept The Jam untarnished by age. More than any other band I think of, The Jam were, and will always, be about the young idea.  

Setting Sons: The Super Deluxe Edition, The Deluxe Edition and Live At The Brighton Centre by The Jam are released on Monday 17^th November 2014 by Polydor/Universal.
Top photo: Paul Weller meets Paul Crud, 1979.

SPIN DRIFTING: REFLECTIONS OF THE STYLE COUNCIL – THE CLASSIC ALBUM SELECTION (2013)

I’ve been listening to The Style Council. Not for the first time of course but thanks to a new six CD Classic Album Selection the first time back-to-back chronologically.

Their career, between 1983 and 1989, neatly spanned my teenage years so it’s difficult to listen to them without old memories spin drifting past. They’ve never been afforded the elevated status of The Jam but in their own way The Style Council had a similar effect shaping the political, sartorial and musical worldview of elements of my post-Jam generation.

I bought their debut single from WH Smiths in Hounslow on the week of release whilst visiting my Granma. I sat in the chair under the grandfather clock, eating a cake mountain, and tried to comprehend The Cappuccino Kid’s gobbledygook on the back cover as Giant Haystacks wandered around the ring with some little fella bouncing off him on World Of Sport. “Speak Like A Child” wasn’t a big departure from The Jam’s last knockings but the emphasis Paul put on the “A” in the title jarred then and jars now. The eight minute politicized funk of “Money Go Round” took “Precious” a step further yet “Long Hot Summer” didn’t sound like anything Weller had put out to that point and if he was keen to severe ties with The Jam’s terrace mentality then a shirtless, greased up, ear stroking frolic with Mick Talbot on the riverbank was one way to go about it.

Those three singles and a few extra tracks make up the first CD here, Introducing, but Café Bleu was the proper album coming out in 1984. There’s five jazz instrumentals with Paul only occasionally taking the main vocals on the album, happy to share them, including giving Tracey Thorn the lead on “The Paris Match” yet driving her round the bend with his unhappiness at her pronunciation of “fire”. It’s a pity the unified jazzy vibe of the first side didn’t continue on the flip but Weller’s restlessness and refusal to get stuck in a groove meant experiments in rap (“A Gospel”) entered the fold. “A Gospel” was dreadful then and sounds worse now – hideously dated - especially as the rest of the record still sounds fresh.

The Style Council’s attempt to turn us (by us I mean me but I was far from alone) into skateboarding, body-bopping B-Boys was mercifully brief (for now) as their primary goal was to mould us into sophisticated Europeans: pastel pullovers draped over shoulders, sauntering down the Champs-Élysées, stopping for a frothy coffee and reading Le Monde before shopping for Blue Note LPs. The reality for a bunch of fourteen year olds was walking home from school in our bowling shoes with grey Fred Perry jumpers tied over our shoulders, pulling out a packet of Gauloises we’d bought from the garage (they didn’t stock Gitanes) and looking down at the other kids with their boring B&H and Rothman’s fags. Those Gauloises tasted bloody disgusting but they rarely touched our lips and our jazz collections consisted of half of Café Bleu and a few Mick Talbot B-sides.

Our Favourite Shop was the most consistent album they’d make; it all fits together and like 22 Dreams many years later is greater than the sum of its parts, however, when listened alongside the others it’s noticeably their least ambitious and experimental LP, which is an odd thing to say bearing in mind Weller sings a track in French and Lenny Henry talks one in Brummie. This album also has the dubious distinction of spawning my first piece of published writing; a review for The Phoenix List, a folded A4 newsletter that grandly claimed to be a “The Weekly Newspaper For Mods”, which landed on doormats every Thursday. In fairness, there was a lot of Mod news in 1985 so the font was tiny. From the dark corner of my bedroom while my little brother was asleep in the bottom bunk surrounded by his Roland Rat posters, I wrote this (brace yourself):

“Although Paul Weller’s not so young anymore, he’s still angry and those of you who thought he’d gone soft should have a listen to this album. Gone are the biting Rickenbacker chords of The Jam which have now been replaced by breezier pop tunes. But Weller’s lyrics have never been more direct and harsh. Throughout the record he tackles a number of today’s social problems, i.e. unemployment, racism, drugs, government, even new towns with such clear and crisp lyrics that it almost makes you feel guilty. The tracks themselves are a mixture of slow acoustic-style numbers; funky “Soul Deep” songs (“Internationalists”); and excellent up-tempo pop songs (“Luck”, “A Man Of Great Promise” and “The Lodgers”), these are the best as they sound happy when you listen to them but their underlying messages are clear. The ace track is “Homebreakers”, sung by Merton Mick and is so classy I can’t describe it. The album is worth buying for that song and “A Man Of Great Promise” alone. Paul Weller, Spokesman For A Generation? Too true. 10 out of 10.”

And yes, I did take that into school, and no, nobody was interested. Apart from squirming uncomfortably reading it now a few things strike me. Firstly, and most disheartening, is how very little my writing has improved. I’m acutely aware I still write like an average 15 year old fanzine editor and here’s the proof but the crux of the review is about right. It is the directness of Weller’s attacks (and that he had come back firing after the largely innocuous lyrics of the previous LP) that stand out here and which he would lose throughout his solo career. I'd later have many drunken conversations with my mate Guy, sitting round his flat playing records all night and when he'd stick on Wild Wood or Heliocentric I’d launch into a rant about how I couldn’t relate to Weller's songs any more, they were either too personal or ambiguous. Our Favourite Shop isn't like that – it’s a vivid scrapbook of Britain in 1985 yet musically (bar only one of two brief moments) has hardly dated. I was over generous with my initial review but I there’s no way I’d give it anything less now than 8 out of 10.

All well and good to this point. We’d moved from being Europeans and were now Internationalists. We were politically motivated off the back of campaigns for CND, miners, even Red Wedge which prompted Neil Kinnock to crack the hilarious gag, “Can I first of all disabuse anyone of the idea red wedge is the name of my hairstyle.” I’d turned a blind eye to Weller’s slicked back hair do and his floppy soul boy wedge but come The Cost Of Loving I was down the hairdressers getting my spiky blonde highlights put in. The rubber cap I had to wear left such a deep indent in my forehead it looked like I’d had a lobotomy so chose to walk home four miles rather than get the tube in case I saw anyone I knew. I wasn't copying Paul Weller, we just had similar taste...

1987’s The Cost Of Loving is the one with the infamous plain orange sleeve. The one which made John Weller splutter “What’s this fucking bollocks? You’re not the Beatles, you cunt”. John was talking about the artwork but he could just as easily been talking about the album. Originally released as a double album with a couple of songs on each side it was only side two with the decent “Heaven’s Above” and excellent “Fairy Tales” that saw much turntable action. The flat singing on the lifeless single “It Didn’t Matter” was bad enough but having a loved up Weller and Dee C. Lee crooning to each other on Anita Baker’s “Angel” or reciting embarrassing lyrics like “I’m gonna love you anyway, I don’t care what people say…” on “Waiting” was atrocious, as was the attempt to transform themselves into a full blown US style modern soul act.

Why “Waiting” was given a single release instead of “Fairy Tales” I’ll never understand. A bonus point though awarded for having Curtis Mayfield mix “Fairy Tales”, even if all Curtis did (bless him) was turn the treble up on the guitar and pocket a few a dollars for five minutes work. But ask most people about the album and I’ll put money on them mentioning “Right To Go”, another ill-advised venture into rap or electro or whatever it was (thankfully it wasn’t Paul and Mick rapping). Nowadays I admire in their balls in attempting to do things like this but then I was near apoplectic. No one liked it, it lost them lots of followers, but they didn’t give a stuff.

This album coincided with Jerusalem, their indulgent satirical film (reasonably funny now, especially Talbot who had a natural comic flare), which showed before their gigs. I was more tolerant than my mates and the majority of a bemused audience at the Royal Albert Hall. It was difficult to hear what was going on, what with being crushed by a stampede off disgruntled punters pushing past, “Fuck this bollocks, I’m going to the bar”. I can’t remember anything about their set. I think I saw them three times but only recollect things around the gigs – like wanting a black and orange TSC college scarf – rather than any music. They did look good though around this period: lots of white denim, Cutler and Gross sunglasses and Bass Weejuns being order of the day. I’d never bought such expensive shoes before.

Like all their albums, Confessions of a Pop Group, bore no resemblance to the previous one. Side one - “The Piano Paintings” – was their take on classical music which prompted Mrs Monkey to scoff yesterday, “The Style Council were so pretentious”, a charge I can’t defend but I like. One again it was a complete shift in styles but this one suited them better (pretentiousness always sat well with The Style Council). Side two played it straighter and the run of “Life At A Top Peoples Health Farm”, “Why I Went Missing” and “How She Threw It All Away” is the best three-in-a-row they ever made. Simply getting the lyrics to “Health Farm” on the radio and television now would be impossible.

The tears of young men splattered many a badger-like shoe when news of The Jam’s spilt surfaced yet throughout the whole of The Style Council’s existence I collected all their records (including imports); had a notebook I’d write all their recording details just in case I needed to quickly check whether Steve Sidelnyk played percussion on “The Story of Someone’s Shoe” ; taped everything I could off the telly on to a couple of video tapes I made special boxes for (“The Style Council: Probably The Best Pop Group In The World. Volumes 1 & 2”) yet their disbandment in 1989 hardly registered.

Polydor refused to release Modernism: A New Decade, which only got saw the light of day on The Complete Adventures of The Style Council box set in 1998. I didn’t buy it so it’s inclusion on this Classic Album Selection was a major draw I wouldn’t ordinarily repurchase things but the set only costs around fifteen quid and is neatly presented with all discs in separate gatefold sleeves.

I didn’t expect to like it. In 1989, deep house (or maybe it was called garage) was the thing. I wasn’t greatly into it but was interested enough to go to Ibiza and root around record shops buying Ibiza House & Love albums of mixes popular on the island. The catch-all “dance music” was everywhere, rave was still around, "Funky Drummer" break beats were on every other record, the Happy Mondays were coming through, The Stone Roses were about to go overground, and bands with guitars would all claim “there’s always been a dance element to our music”. It’s not difficult to understand Polydor’s stance. Those wanting house records were not interested in the Style Council and for the most part the opposite was true. Even we bought and said we preferred Joe Smooth doing “Promised Land”. If the Albert Hall crowd were dismissive of Jerusalem they were openly contemptuous when greeted by an unfamiliar acid house Council in July ’89, in what would provide the band’s death knell. I wasn't there and was more likely listening to Inner City records.

Yet, against the odds, Modernism now, rather than sounding like a tired band about to be put out of its misery, sounds like a band rejuvenated and optimistic of the future. It does sound of its time (although less than I'd expected) and of all the albums this is the one I’ve listened to in the most nostalgic way (despite not hearing it until now). Other "pop" acts were moving in a similar direction (The Blow Monkeys and ABC to name two) but TSC - in retrospect - sound far more convincing and authentic. Discovering it in the recent hot weather with a beer in hand has helped. Mrs Monkey, far less forgiving and unencumbered by an 80s past, asked “What on earth are you playing?” It’s the Style Council. “It’s shit”. It’s the Style Council’s house album. “It’s still shit.” You probably had to be there.

I’d planned to play these six albums through once but have kept going back to them. The ground they covered in little over six years is incredible. Sure, it didn’t always work but they were brave, they challenged themselves and their audience and they never stood still. In Paul Weller’s career this is far from the wobbly part in the middle it is sometimes thought (although there’s been a discernible shift in that) and no one should underestimate the contribution of Mick Talbot.

In 1990 Paul Weller told the NME, “We created some great music in our time, the effects of which won't be appreciated for some time.” Now is the time.

Mickey's Monkey (2009)

BOY ABOUT TOWN by TONY FLETCHER (2013)

Tony Fletcher is the author of numerous books including the definitive Keith Moon biography Dear Boy and an exhaustive account of The Smiths, A Light That Never Goes Out. In the 1980s he wrote for The Face, was a presenter on Channel 4’s The Tube and his Jamming! magazine sat on the shelves of WH Smiths (described to me the other day as Smash Hits’ cool older brother).  

Yet for many Fletcher is synonymous, even now, with the late 70s fanzine culture that saw the likes of Sniffin’ Glue, Maximum Speed and his own Jamming! give a platform for enthusiastic young kids to write about their music.

Boy About Town is Fletcher’s memoir of that period and whilst his coming of age story is fairly unremarkable in regard to friendships, football matches, school trips, being bullied, forming a band, dabbling with drugs, milking the lizard and a desperate need to lose his cherry, his activities and associations which stemmed from producing his own fanzine are anything but ordinary.

Inspired by Jon Savage’s fanzine article in Sounds in 1977, thirteen year old Fletcher was soon knocking out his own (fanzine, that is) and within a year and six issues it was fast on its way to becoming one of the most celebrated of the era, boasting interviews with upcoming Adam and the Ants, Scritti Politti and Alternative TV next to big names The Jam and, incredibly, Pete Townshend. Soon after, as told in the book, there are memorable encounters with The Damned, The Fall, The Undertones and many others as Fletcher immersed himself the DIY post-punk and, for a brief time, mod scenes.

A central presence in the book is The Jam and particularly Paul Weller. Of course The Jam were well known for their accessibility: allowing fans to watch their sound checks; letting them in the studio; and removing as many barriers between band and fan as possible. Therefore it’s not surprising Weller was more than happy to give an interview to a thirteen young old but what is striking is how Weller didn’t leave it there but followed it up with invites to gigs, supportive letters and an open invitation to drop by the studio whenever they were recording; not once does he come across as patronising or anything but genuinely supportive of Tony’s endeavours. Fletcher doesn’t say it but it’s hard not to think Weller didn’t see something of himself in his young fan’s quiet ambition, determination and entrepreneurial flair. Boy About Town is recommended for plentiful Jam anecdotes and insights alone, including a few details worthy of quiz questions.

How much The Jam were the people’s band (and the band for the most discerning school kids) is best illustrated by the Tony’s discovery “Going Underground” had gone straight in at number one as he was out of school one Tuesday lunchtime. He rushes back to tell his classmates the news before afternoon registration. “A massive roar went up. We found ourselves jumping up and down together, like we all supported the same football team and they’d just won the Cup”.  It’s my favourite moment in the book but a bittersweet memory “And with that, it sank in. They were no longer our band.”

Fletcher was also a big fan of The Who, discovering them via the Quadrophenia and Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy LPs and going to see their massive gig (on his own, aged 12) at Charlton. His brief encounter with Keith Moon later is very sweet and shows a lovely side to Keith, so much so that when Moonie dies Fletcher promised himself that one day he will “put the record straight”. Most of the book is written from the viewpoint his teenage self (the only excuse for using terms “modette” and “punkette”) but on occasion elements of a grown up perceptive creep in. I can’t quite believe all the observations took place whilst growing up, even for an observer as astute as Fletcher.

And it’s as an observer where Fletcher shines. Although he witnessed (or not witnessed, as he missed the infamous Bill Grundy appearance) punk hit its peak and then again as the mod revival briefly took hold, Tony never threw his lot in with any cult or fad. Only last week I saw Jamming! referred to as mod fanzine, something it definitely wasn’t although it was supportive of some of the bands (notably Southend’s Speedball who feature heavily) and he did see it develop from queues of young mods outside The Who’s Rainbow gig in ’78 to gigs at The Wellington pub in Waterloo and burn out at a rapidly once it appeared on Janet Street Porter’s London Weekend Show.

Fletcher had a healthy scepticism about the mod revival and was furious at being labelled a mod but it’s interesting to read his more dispassionate account of it from the view of an onlooker. Secret Affair in particular are accused cynically manoeuvring themselves at the vanguard of the movement and denying their recent past. “Even if looking good was the answer, looking backwards most certainly was not.”

Looking over one’s shoulder was a good idea back in the late 70s, as violent skinheads (the right-wing moron kind) were omnipresent at gigs. It’s hard to imagine fights at gigs these days but back then it was difficult to imagine going to a gig without that thought becoming a reality. I’ve mainly focused above on the mod element but Boy About Town is about much more than that. Fletcher paints a vivid picture of the time – both through the eyes of a boy dealing with growing up and into the underground music scene of bands, fanzines, small record labels, and a staunchly independent spirit.

The book ends with Tony taking his O Levels and receiving an amazing proposition from Paul Weller. It’s a great read and one which potentially invites the difficult second album syndrome.   

Boy About Town by Tony Fletcher is published by William Heinemann, out now. 

For more info check Tony's ijamming.net

“WE HAD A GREAT NIGHT LAST NIGHT, LET’S HAVE AN EVEN BETTER ONE TONIGHT… THE JAM!”

The new issue of Mojo Magazine has an interesting eight page article on the last days of The Jam - including interviews with all three members - which prompted me to trawl YouTube looking for footage I’ve not seen for a long time. So much to enjoy in this clip as the band prepare for a gig at Newcastle City Hall in 1980. 

THE MUMPER by MARK BAXTER and PAOLO HEWITT

The Mumper was first published in 2007 and is a mainly autobiographical tale by Mark “Bax” Baxter, now taken up by a major publisher to tie-in with a new film.

It tells of Bax and his six mates, whose ages span fifty years, that meet every Sunday in a South London boozer. They rip the piss out of each other, bemoan Millwall’s latest result, talk nonsense, and enjoy each other’s company. Whatever else goes on in their lives, it's put to one side when the notes are chucked in the whip when Sunday comes. Bax (in real life) comes from solid mod stock, who I’ve sometimes said hello as he busies himself in the back room of my tailor George Dyer (Threadneedleman, 187A Walworth Road, SE17 for all your bespoke needs). Although there are the occasional references to mod (and George) they aren’t at the heart of the story.

The story isn’t far off an episode of Only Fools and Horses, or anything else from John Sullivan, with its comic yet loving portrayal of everyday folk, especially when a stranger enters the pub trying to offload a racehorse, which the group buy, name The Mumper, and dress in Millwall colours. “This time next year Rodney…” The story might (or might not) be a predictable one but the fate of The Mumper is secondary to the friendship and bonds that tie these seemingly disparate bunch of blokes.

Away from the pub Bax prints the daily newspapers on Fleet Street, an occupation shared by my own Granpop (who was no doubt one of the “Dad’s Army” referred to). I found those sections – set against the ugly mid-80s trade union dispute with Rupert Murdoch and the eventual sacking of 6000 workers – particularly interesting and dealt with commendably even-handedly.

The Mumper has now been made in to a film, Outside Bet, starring Bob Hoskins, and is released in cinemas on 27 April. The book is a light easy read (although the parts about the father did choke me) and I imagine the film will be a pleasant, quintessentially British affair worth a look (not least because Rita Tushingham and Dudley Sutton make appearances and Paul Weller wrote the title song). The makers are bound to take a few liberties with the story though. For a start, there’s no love interest in The Mumper; there are next to no women at all apart from Bax’s mum, unless you count barmaids. The book is very much a tale of male friendship and the way blokes deal with both happiness and sadness, and when they’ve the balls, how they follow their instincts. I liked it a lot. Go on The Mumper my son!

The Mumper by Mark Baxter and Paolo Hewitt is published by Orion, priced £7.99. Outside Bet is released by Universal Pictures UK on 27 April 2012.

ROGER DALTREY AND FRIENDS for the TEENAGE CANCER TRUST

“This country's in a weird, feeble, grotesque state and it's about time it got out of it. And the reason it could get out of it is rock music! And I think that Pete Townshend, The Who, Roger Daltrey, Entwistle, Moon, could rise this country out of its decadent, ambient state more than Wilson and those crappy people could ever hope to achieve!”
Ken Russell talking to Russell Harty, 27 March 1975.

Bless old Ken. I don’t think many people still entertain the idea that rock music can change the country but credit to Roger Daltrey for trying to make a difference with his long-standing patronage of the Teenage Cancer Trust and his efforts in pulling together his annual fundraising gigs at the Royal Albert Hall. The trust, which receives no government funding, build specialist units within NHS hospitals to provide care and an environment designed to give teenagers the best chance of a positive outcome. The money raised by the TCT gigs, like the one on Wednesday, goes some way to change the lives of teenagers like Andrew, who shared his experiences on the big screen, and Jen and Katie there in person, on stage, to “celebrate their survival”. All three are inspiring young people and you'd need a heart of stone to not be moved by their stories and courage.

The night was billed as An Evening With Roger Daltrey, Paul Weller and Kelly Jones. There were guests. Some were special. Mostly they were Roger’s mates helping him out, and for that, I’ll ease off any heavy critique of the night. The help in financial and publicity terms given to TCT far outweighs any pithy comments I might usually make.

Roger began by playing a couple of folk tunes backed by fiddlers and an accordionist. Paul Freeman (no idea) played what he told us was his new single. Kelly Jones played what I assume were three or four Stereophonics songs backed by a string quartet, before bringing out Paul Weller to play keyboards and Ronnie Wood to play guitar on “Don’t Let Me Down” and “Ooh La La”.

Weller’s own set was next and I was looking for him to inject some life into proceeding but rather than strutting around sonically kicking he sat with four other geezers on stools playing guitars. They looked like a mod Westlife. “English Rose” was nice to hear and the arrangement of “All I Wanna Do” worked well, but even just seven songs dragged a bit for me.

After a beer and bog break Roger returned for “Who Are You”, a ropey “Kids Are Alright” and a decent “Behind Blue Eyes”, before making way for Amy MacDonald to sing three songs. She in turn made way for Steve Winwood who played “Higher Love” before a barnstorming “Gimme Some Lovin’”. Stevie's still got his pipes and pulverised the Hammond like a good un; unquestionably the highlight to that point.

Roger was then back for good and with his voice warmed up threw himself into an extended set of mainly Who classics beginning with “Pinball Wizard” and including “Won’t Get Fooled Again”, “I Can See For Miles” and a brilliant – and I mean brilliant - version of “Young Man Blues”, complete with his customary demonstration in the art of microphone swinging. I can’t think of many “rock stars” as likeable as Roger Daltrey. He cuts through any bullshit, has a lack of pretension, and comes across as sincere and passionate without preaching or sounding condescending. Quite how he’s managed fifty years with Pete Townshend…

After over three and a half hours, the show closed with Roger, a ukulele, and one of Townshend’s forgotten gems, “Blue, Red and Grey” from The Who By Numbers. I’ve seen Roger do this before but, under the circumstances, hearing him sing about liking every minute of the day was especially poignant and a lump-in-the-throat choice to end the evening.

To find out more about the Teenage Cancer Trust or to donate, click here.

MARCH PLAYLIST

Every day I try to discover new music. These are among the ten best things to turn up this month.

1. The Reuben Wilson Quartet – “Rod Run” (1961)
Taken from the new Mod Jazz Forever compilation. Some of the tracks in the Mod Jazz series are a bit too lightweight but that’s not an accusation I’d level at “Rod Run” which, becoming of a former professional boxer, packs a mean Hammond and horns one-two.

2. Alex Chilton – “All We Ever Got From Them Was Pain” (1970)
Last month’s playlist featured a post-Big Star track by Chris Bell, this is a pre-Big Star one by Chilton and equal to anything they did together. It'll stop you in your tracks. Discovery of the month.

3. Andrew Leigh – “Magician” (1970)
Between stints in Spooky Tooth and Matthews Southern Comfort, Leigh cut an album with his buddies including Kevin Westlake, Gary Farr and Reggie King who plays piano and contributes clearly audible backing vocals on this title track, a looping folksy rocker. For an album sounding like it was made by people wearing collarless cheesecloth shirts, it’s a very good one.

4. The Temptations – “Zoom” (1973)
By this point they should’ve been called Norman Whitfield and The Temptations; a fact which disgruntled the Tempts so much it ended the relationship with their producer after the 1990 LP. This closing track is pure street-funk Whitfield.

5. The Clash – “1-2 Crush On You” (1978)
I’m guessing the politicised “Tommy Gun” was predominately the work of Joe Strummer whilst this innocent 60s Tin Pan Alley style B-side was more Mick Jones.

6. Ramblin’ Jack Elliott – “Arthritis Blues” (2006)
Nicky Wire wrote this month that the arthritis in his knees has made his stage jumps a thing of the past. Listening to Jack’s painful account, that’s the least of his worries.

7. Sissy and the Blisters – “We Are The Others” (2011)
I miss the goth-garage days of The Horrors. Sissy and the Blisters missed them so much they formed a band.

8. Hooded Fang – “Clap” (2012)
There are illustrations of Mexican wrestlers on the sleeve of their 23 minute LP Tosta Mista. I so wanted that to be the band. It’s not. I’ve seen a picture of these limp indie kids and wouldn’t fancy their chances folding a letter let alone executing a quebrador con grio.

9. Jagwar Ma – “Come Save Me” (2012)
If Brian Wilson hears this on the wireless he'll wonder if he’s due any royalties. It'll certainly confuse him.

10. Paul Weller – “Green” (2012)
Not very long ago it was possible to dismiss Weller’s music in a single word: Dadrock. He was so much older then, he’s younger than that now. Or, to use one of Monkey Snr.’s phrases, he’s not as green as he’s cabbage looking.

JAPAN DISASTER BENEFIT GIG at the BRIXTON ACADEMY

Warm hearted Liam Gallagher was reportedly the brains behind this benefit gig for the victims of the Japanese earthquake and tsunami. He personally organised it. "Paul, wanna do a gig for them people in Japan?" Grunt. "Sound." And we’re off…

First up were The Coral. They chimed their Rickenbackers in unison to tracks from Butterfly House and earlier. The lush Wirral West Coast harmonies of “1000 Years” one minute and the heavier Fillmore wig-out of “North Parade” the next. They played their biggie “Dreaming of You” and even did “Ticket To Ride”. It seemed a shame to waste their stage time with that, which dragged like they were pulling the rotting carcass of Merseybeat around with them, when their own stuff is better. I wondered if Liam had stipulated everyone had to play a Beatles song. I braced myself. As performers, The Coral offer nothing beyond their songs and musicianship - there’s more movement in George Harrison’s slippers - but they put down a solid marker for the evening and this morning I’ve been listening to them again.

Graham Coxon was the most surprising name on Liam’s wish list and what he made of Coxon’s set is anyone’s guess. From the start he promised/warned he was going to play some old songs and some new songs. Old songs would mean old solo songs, not old “Coffee and TV” songs. He kicked off with something akin to a child’s messy bedroom. There was stuff jumbled all over the place. “Confusing, weren’t it?” he acknowledged. He continued in this vein like an angry teenager playing his New York CBGBs punk records in one room and his Buzzcocks, Jam and Clash records in another down the phone to his mate in Seattle at top volume to annoy his parents. His wasn’t a singalong set, even “Standing On My Own Again” and “Freakin’ Out” seemed obscure to most, but he went down well. I mean, it’s the geezer from Blur innit?

I hadn’t expected The Coral to be on first so it made the running order a fun guessing game. Not many guessed Paul Weller. The last time I saw him was twenty years ago, stood on the same spot, with one Japanese issued solo album to his name but I’ve kept tabs on him. I can trace almost every twig and branch on my musical tree back to the acorn planted when I bought The Jam’s “Absolute Beginners” as boy breaking into mod and spots. With his grey Uncle Bulgaria mullet, tonight Lord Welly clears up. He struts his slim line frame and kicks out a flared trouser leg and juts his head like a startled tortoise. Set wise he plays thirteen songs: three Jam songs, including “Art School” which somehow now requires three guitars and a feisty “Eton Rifles”, solo stuff, but unfortunately nothing from the Style Council era. If I never hear the likes of “Whirlpool’s End” or “The Changingman” again it’ll be too soon but it doesn’t detract from the performance and his commanding presence. He is an absolute class act, no doubt, and in the bonkers “Fast Car, Slow Traffic” can still joyfully rub against the grain. “From The Floorboards Up” and “Come On/ Let’s Go” burned brightly but my eyes rolled to the back of my head for the next Beatles karaoke moment, “Come Together”. Argh.

Kelly Jones is from a band called The Stereophonics. He played three songs on a guitar. Wayne Rooney has a Stereophonics tattoo.

Of all the acts, Primal Scream are the one I’ve seen most down the years. Usually they’re good, sometimes great, although the last time, off the back of the glittery disco balls-up Beautiful Future, they were going through the motions and frankly rubbish. From the thundering opening of “Accelerator” they were in the mood, and some. At first I thought Mani had been replaced on bass by David Hasselhoff before realizing it was Glen Matlock. Phew. Anyway, the Scream totally smashed the place, with Bobby Gillespie, still wearing that red silk shirt from 1991, pulling out all the stops - all flailing limbs and hair. “Movin’ On Up” will always be a winner, “Loaded” still sounded fresh, “Country Girl” was blistering, and I’ve never heard them do “Rocks” with such conviction. Beatles cover? Do me a favour. For them it was a grubby Stoogesy version of Billy Boy Arnold’s “I Wish You Would” leading into Bo Diddley’s “Who Do You Love”. Like I say, totally smashed it.

Richard Ashcroft’s three song acoustic spot allowed some breathing space. In the days of indoor smoking “Sonnet” and “Lucky Man” would’ve bought a sea of lighters to the air as everyone swayed along. He did a new one which sounded like an old one and was gone. He was in fine voice but didn’t do “The Drugs Don’t Work”. The bastard.

I’ve tried listening to Beady Eye’s album but haven’t yet made it until the end. It’s predictable, overlong, but not – if I’m being generous - especially terrible (although there are some songs which are precisely that). If released in 1997 it would’ve been the third best Oasis LP. The problem they have is following four hours packed with classic moments and memories from people’s lives with only their tepidly received album. So when Liam sings “I’m gonna stand the test of time like the Beatles and Stones”, you feel like patting him on his head. He of course prowls around like a gibbon in an oversized parka and still hasn’t cottoned on that if he actually touched the mic stand he could raise it a couple of inches so he didn’t need to bend his knees and tilt his head to sing. Bless. “Four Letter Word” and “Bring The Light” are brash and ballsy and work well but any (relative) subtlety in more thoughtful tracks like “Millionaire” are bludgeoned out of them by the thick wall of noise and constant thump-thump-thumping. Liam, just because you turn it up, it doesn’t make it sound any better and flashing lots of bright lights won't distract us for long. After a while it gets so damn monotonous and a test of endurance that beats many as they head to the door with ears ringing. Those who sneaked off missed a cover of the Beatles "Across The Universe".

Over £150,000 was raised for the British Red Cross to help the people of Japan.
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APRIL PLAYLIST

This month’s listening has included some fantastic new stuff. The Weller LP will as ever divide opinion (especially if you’ve seen his dreadful television performances) but after a gap of about 20 years I’m firmly back in the pro camp. If Roky Erickson’s doesn’t move you, nothing will. Fill your boots.

1. Little Jerry – “There Ain’t Enough Love” (1960)
I’ve lugged this rolling piano and horns single around in my DJ box for years yet hardly ever get to play it. I find out today that Little Jerry was Little Jerry Williams who was later became Swamp Dogg. You’re fascinated, I can tell.

2. The Four Tops – “Baby I Need Your Loving” (1964)
When people get married to the strains of Levi Stubbs and co, you know everything is gonna be alright. Mark and Melanie Wilkinson, this is for you.

3. Philamore Lincoln – The North Wind Blew South LP (1969)
Just when you think you’ve discovered every 60s album worth having, something like this lush, breezy, gently psychedelic masterpiece turns up and knocks your paisley socks off clean into next Tuesday. I only discovered it through Bill Luther and his Anorak Thing blog. To see what originally piqued my interest – and to continue our tradition of sharing stuff going back to our fanzine days - see here.

4. Lightnin’ Hopkins – “Let Me Play With Your Poodle” (1969)
If I had poodle there’s no way I’d let Hopkins anywhere near it.

5. The Last Poets – “True Blues” (1971)
If you’re a rapper (unlikely) and you haven’t studied The Last Poets you haven’t done your homework, boiy. Percussion, chanting, and a blistering torrent of street savvy militant poetry. Right on.

6. 20 Dollar Whore – “Big Black Lover” (2001)
Now, let’s see. The band are 20 Dollar Whore. Their record is “Teenage Fuckin’ Boredom E.P.” It has the Black Panthers on the sleeve. One side is “Side Asshole”, the other “Side Bitch”. They come from Kouvola, Eastern Finland. I’m guessing it ain’t a lot of fun there.

7. Serena Maneesh – “Blow Yr Brains Out In The Mourning Rain” (2010)
The album S-M 2: Abyss In B Minor sails too close to the shoegazing wind to be endorsed or encouraged but a couple of tracks stand out including this well titled racket.

8. Johnny Cash – “Ain’t No Grave” (2010)
I hope you didn’t send him any flowers, cos it seems old Johnny ain’t dead yet. “Ain’t no grave, can hold my body down” he wheezes. From the grave. Again.

9. Paul Weller – Wake Up The Nation LP (2010)
Like 22 Dreams, Wake Up The Nation works best when listened to as a whole. As such its difficult picking out individual tracks but the further out there he goes, the better it gets. And he goes pretty far out: “7&3 Is The Striker’s Name” is the most extravagantly outlandish single of his career; he audaciously sings falsetto on “Aim High”; he invites Bruce Foxton back into the fold and gets him to play on the gibberish off-kilter lunacy of “Fast Car/Slow Traffic” as a punishment for “London Traffic” 32 years ago; and he throws in a mini rock opera, “Trees”, that has him singing as a woman “When I walk down any street, men would stop and stare/ Boys would whistle and their eyes would shine/ My skirt would swish to show my long strong legs so fine”. Sup up your beer and collect your fags, Weller – you’ve pulled.

10. Roky Erickson with Okkervil River – True Love Cast Out All Evil LP (2010)
Fragile, tender, graceful and deeply moving, the countrified True Love Cast Out All Evil is an album of unexpected, unsettling, redemptive beauty. After all Roky has been through – the acid, the madness, the home for the criminally insane, the electroshock therapy, the Thorazine, the poverty, the zombies and two-headed dogs - it’s an emotional listen: you want to wrap your arms around it as it slowly breaks your heart before delicately papering over the cracks. Album of the month and a marker for album of the year.