THE JIM JONES REVUE - BURNING YOUR HOUSE DOWN (2010)

I’ve served my dues as fire safety officer, offering advice on how to protect people and property from fire. Most is blindingly obvious: training, fire alarms and extinguishers, maintenance of electrical items, not leaving candles unattended, not smoking, general housekeeping, protection from arson etc. Fascinating stuff I’m sure you’ll agree. Those souls still doing that job may now like to add the Jim Jones Revue to their risk assessment because, believe me, they are red hot and likely to spontaneously combust at any moment.

There’s little change since 2008’s eponymous debut, it’s still full-tilt in-the-red rockaboogie delivered with a ferocious intensity and conviction it destroys not only everything in its way but everything that came before. The only hint of difference from the first LP being the distortion is occasionally turned down from eleven to ten and three quarters, allowing the merest waft of air in to the recording.

“Dishonest John” smacks down a marker and they shake, rattle and roll their way through another ten at breakneck speed as the flames lick around their heels. The MC5 meet Little Richard comparison has been done to death (presumably by those who’ve not heard the Five’s weedy cover of “Tutti Fruitti”) so by way of a change let’s say songs like “Premeditated” are more a souped up Black Crowes playing as if they've been pushed over a cliff and fronted by a wild and bug eyed Noddy Holder who’s been told it really will be Christmas every day. Not every track matches the giddy heights of the singles “High Horse” or the thunderous “Elemental” but there’s nothing to change my mind that they are the most electrifying and thrilling band in town.

Do not leave unattended.

Burning Your House Down by The Jim Jones Revue is released by Punk Rock Blues Records.

SPOTIFY PICK #3: IF YOU DANCE TO THE MUSIC YOU GOT TO PAY TO THE PIPER

Those days of sitting on the bedroom floor with a pile of Kent compilations to create Northern Soul tapes for work mates have long passed. Instead - and it’s a poor substitute really - a quick flick around Spotify can do an okay job. So, with that in mind, and with the emphasis on quality over obscurity (just as well working with Spotify’s thin collection), here are twenty tracks to glide around the floor to. Enjoy.

NICKY WIRE AND TONY BENN IN CONVERSATION

And now for something completely different. Taken from the ever excellent theQuietus site. Inspiring stuff. Can forgive Nicky's misguided attempt at singing (again) on the new Manics album now. Although forgiving them for such a fluffy album will take longer.

In Conversation: Tony Benn MP & Nicky Wire of the Manic Street Preachers from theQuietus on Vimeo.

GWEN DAVIS - MY MAN DON'T THINK I KNOW

The year is nineteen and sixty five and this is the sound of Gwen Davis taking it to the bridge between R&B and Northern Soul.

SOULBOY (2010)

Stoke-on-Trent 1974 and Joe (played by Martin Compston) has left school, delivers flour with a Tom Jones enthusiast by day and gets drunk in a local bar for local people who dance to Mud records by night. Then he becomes wrapped, tied and tangled in the world of Northern Soul…

Beneath the spins, acrobatics and sweaty vests of Shimmy Marcus’s SoulBoy is an ordinary coming of age film about a lad who falls for the walking-in-slow-motion-with-blonde-hair-blowing-in-the-wind Jane (Nichola Burley), whilst the (supposedly) plain bit-frumpy-at-school brunette Mandy (Felicity Jones) harbours a secret crush and teaches him to dance in his bedroom. You know what follows. It’s formulaic and clichéd but thanks to the setting, music, period detail and gentle humour actually hard to dislike and difficult to watch without a slight smile.

Northern Soul itself is the star though. Hearing Yvonne Baker, Patti and the Emblems, Luther Ingram, Jason Knight, Billy Preston, Dean Parrish and co blaring out cinema speakers instead of the rattling ones at the 100 Club brings on the old goose bumps, and whoever managed to squeeze in Porgy and the Monarchs “If It’s For Real” deserves the keys to Wigan. Set in the Casino it blends archive footage with new scenes making the joins difficult to see.

The cringe worthy moments were unexpectedly low, although I did wince at clapping in unison to “Tainted Love” and any scene with Huey Morgan as the ridiculous cartoon hippie record shop owner cheapened the overall effect. Also Jane’s boyfriend who ruled the roost with his dancing at the front of the Casino stage was too old and ugly to be dating the belle of the ball. But generally it looked good and made the scene out to be an exciting place to be, covering the dancing, records, fashions, drugs and violence with admirable believability. It's not a documentary or a gritty drama, just a nice way to spend a hour and a half. Nowt wrong with that.

If you’ve ever been bitten by the soul bug there’s plenty to enjoy and recognize; if not, this might – just – tempt you out on the floor.

THE CANAL by LEE ROURKE

Lee Rourke’s unsettling debut novel is centered on a nameless man and a nameless woman sitting on a bench, gazing at the Regent’s Canal between Hackney and Islington, sometimes speaking, mostly not. That’s the surface but, much like the feet of the swans as they glide past, it kicks up a lot of turbulence underneath. The Canal is about boredom, about life, about love, death, dreams, fears, loneliness, solitude, truth, and thoughts you wouldn’t share in polite company. It’s also about towpath etiquette (ting-ting) and uses words like crepuscular but don’t let that put you off. I read it in two days, finished it over a week ago, and am still thinking about it now.

The photo above is one I took of that stretch of the canal by my flat about a year ago and somehow captures the mood better than I can in words.

The Canal by Lee Rourke is published by Melville House, priced £9.99.

POWDER - GLADLY (1968)

You can tell when I've nothing much to say because I stick up a youtube clip. If you've not heard Powder before, here's your chance. Take it.