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Gene

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Recorded at the LA Troubadour in 2000?and gaps like that never bode well. Though it covers moments when the band were at their defiant best?"Olympian", "For The Dead", "Fighting Fit"?it still feels like they're going through the motions. And that's a shame as Gene always had a lot more to them than their ill-deserved reputation as Britpop fops. Worth seeing for what could have been.

Recorded at the LA Troubadour in 2000?and gaps like that never bode well. Though it covers moments when the band were at their defiant best?”Olympian”, “For The Dead”, “Fighting Fit”?it still feels like they’re going through the motions. And that’s a shame as Gene always had a lot more to them than their ill-deserved reputation as Britpop fops. Worth seeing for what could have been.

The Comeback Kid

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By the time7 The Beatles landed in America in 1964, Elvis was already churning out on average three movies a year, having forsaken his R&B roots to rake in a fortune as Hollywood's highest-paid movie star of the '60s. Come 1967, the year the Fabs released Sgt Pepper, the once infallible "King Of Rock'n'Roll" could be seen in a leotard, warbling "Yoga Is As Yoga Does" in the pitiful Easy Come, Easy Go. Something had to change. It did, in 1968, when Presley agreed to make a Christmas TV special for the NBC network. As legend has it, manager Colonel Tom Parker wanted Santa suits and "chestnuts roasting on an open fire". Thankfully the show's ambitious young producer, Steve Binder, had other ideas. The result was Elvis, a one-hour programme sponsored by Singer sewing machines in which Binder encouraged Presley to rediscover the raw, bestial talent he feared he'd destroyed by one Harum Scarum too many. The joy of what is now known as the '68 Comeback, above and beyond the obvious jaw-agog submission to Elvis' brilliance, is the measure of how he clawed himself out of the mire into which he'd sunk. Nowhere is his renaissance more tangible than on the famed black-leather 'boxing-ring' sit-down performance (the genesis of MTV's Unplugged), where he returns to his '50s rockabilly womb flanked by his original Sun Studios-era band (disc one also allows us to indulge in the two complete sit-down shows in their swoonsome entirety). Just as mesmerising are the ostensibly ridiculous production numbers?one can only wonder what Parker must've made of the moment Elvis interrupts the tender "It Hurts Me" to coolly karate-chop a small army of thugs against a psychedelic wah-wah freak-out worthy of The Mothers Of Invention. Like a similar two-disc polish job on 1973's Aloha From Hawaii (Rating Star ), this supersize special edition arrives under the bigger umbrella of this year's 50th anniversary of 1954's debut single, "That's All Right" (and, so the Presley estate claim, by proxy the 50th birthday of rock'n'roll itself). However, it's these vivid freeze-frames of the black leather sex-god huffin' and a-sweatin' through "Tiger Man", and that of his pristine white alter ego purging mankind's sins on "If I Can Dream", that endure above all other images of Elvis. If nothing else, remember him this way.

By the time7 The Beatles landed in America in 1964, Elvis was already churning out on average three movies a year, having forsaken his R&B roots to rake in a fortune as Hollywood’s highest-paid movie star of the ’60s. Come 1967, the year the Fabs released Sgt Pepper, the once infallible “King Of Rock’n’Roll” could be seen in a leotard, warbling “Yoga Is As Yoga Does” in the pitiful Easy Come, Easy Go. Something had to change.

It did, in 1968, when Presley agreed to make a Christmas TV special for the NBC network. As legend has it, manager Colonel Tom Parker wanted Santa suits and “chestnuts roasting on an open fire”. Thankfully the show’s ambitious young producer, Steve Binder, had other ideas. The result was Elvis, a one-hour programme sponsored by Singer sewing machines in which Binder encouraged Presley to rediscover the raw, bestial talent he feared he’d destroyed by one Harum Scarum too many.

The joy of what is now known as the ’68 Comeback, above and beyond the obvious jaw-agog submission to Elvis’ brilliance, is the measure of how he clawed himself out of the mire into which he’d sunk. Nowhere is his renaissance more tangible than on the famed black-leather ‘boxing-ring’ sit-down performance (the genesis of MTV’s Unplugged), where he returns to his ’50s rockabilly womb flanked by his original Sun Studios-era band (disc one also allows us to indulge in the two complete sit-down shows in their swoonsome entirety). Just as mesmerising are the ostensibly ridiculous production numbers?one can only wonder what Parker must’ve made of the moment Elvis interrupts the tender “It Hurts Me” to coolly karate-chop a small army of thugs against a psychedelic wah-wah freak-out worthy of The Mothers Of Invention.

Like a similar two-disc polish job on 1973’s Aloha From Hawaii (Rating Star ), this supersize special edition arrives under the bigger umbrella of this year’s 50th anniversary of 1954’s debut single, “That’s All Right” (and, so the Presley estate claim, by proxy the 50th birthday of rock’n’roll itself). However, it’s these vivid freeze-frames of the black leather sex-god huffin’ and a-sweatin’ through “Tiger Man”, and that of his pristine white alter ego purging mankind’s sins on “If I Can Dream”, that endure above all other images of Elvis. If nothing else, remember him this way.

Spirits Of Punk

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"We were told by our first manager that we should never consider making a video as art," remembers Thurston Moore, talking about this collection of 23 avant-promos. "We immediately fired the guy and made videos we thought would, well, at least be artful." Just as Sonic Youth's music has negotiated ...

“We were told by our first manager that we should never consider making a video as art,” remembers Thurston Moore, talking about this collection of 23 avant-promos. “We immediately fired the guy and made videos we thought would, well, at least be artful.”

Just as Sonic Youth’s music has negotiated a successful course between major label obligations and left-field experiment, Corporate Ghost proves their videos have been equally successful hybrids. Stretching from the 11 clips made for 1990’s Geffen debut, Goo, to 2002’s gorgeous “Disconnection Notice”, this is a testament to the band’s punk spirit, their often overlooked playfulness, and their taste in collaborators. Corporate Ghost is like a showreel of early work by some of modern cinema’s greatest talents. Spike Jonze brings a bunch of his skater mates to the hipster teenage party of “100%”. Todd Haynes puts the band in wigs, big shades and tinfoil for “Disappearer”. Chlo

Heather Nova

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A decade ago, Heather Nova burst forth as a kind of female Jeff Buckley. She's never quite fulfilled the promise but is a hugely popular live act. Her understated backing band are superb, but it's her soaring vocals that grab the attention at this show dating from September 2003, which concentrates mainly on material from her most recent album, Storm, and suggests she's toned down some of her earlier jagged edges.

A decade ago, Heather Nova burst forth as a kind of female Jeff Buckley. She’s never quite fulfilled the promise but is a hugely popular live act. Her understated backing band are superb, but it’s her soaring vocals that grab the attention at this show dating from September 2003, which concentrates mainly on material from her most recent album, Storm, and suggests she’s toned down some of her earlier jagged edges.

Various Artists

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Mega-rock festival staged in Toronto in July 2003, where a bizarre line-up included The Isley Brothers, AC/DC, Justin Timberlake and The Rolling Stones. A voiceover drones on about how Toronto needed a "big idea" to restore its confidence after the city's SARS crisis, but this event is pretty average, and Timberlake's duet with Jagger on "Miss You" is, weirdly, the highlight.

Mega-rock festival staged in Toronto in July 2003, where a bizarre line-up included The Isley Brothers, AC/DC, Justin Timberlake and The Rolling Stones. A voiceover drones on about how Toronto needed a “big idea” to restore its confidence after the city’s SARS crisis, but this event is pretty average, and Timberlake’s duet with Jagger on “Miss You” is, weirdly, the highlight.

Peggy Lee

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This frustrating compilation trawls the archives from the early '40s to the late '80s to assemble 20 of the divine Miss Lee's greatest film and TV performances. While some clips are understandably washed-out, Lee's wide-ranging voice is black-coffee-and-honey throughout. What lets the set down is the decision to cut gushing tributes from celebrity fans into the performances. That aside, fine stuff.

This frustrating compilation trawls the archives from the early ’40s to the late ’80s to assemble 20 of the divine Miss Lee’s greatest film and TV performances. While some clips are understandably washed-out, Lee’s wide-ranging voice is black-coffee-and-honey throughout. What lets the set down is the decision to cut gushing tributes from celebrity fans into the performances. That aside, fine stuff.

Billy Childish

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Childish may well be a "genius" (just ask Jack White), but this DVD doesn't really do the Bard Of Chatham justice since it contains just two old gigs filmed on video. Admittedly, Thee Milkshakes twang up an impressive storm in 1984, but watching Thee Headcoats rock a crowd of about 10 in 1989 is much less gripping, even with cameos from Holly Golightly's Headcoatees. Shame.

Childish may well be a “genius” (just ask Jack White), but this DVD doesn’t really do the Bard Of Chatham justice since it contains just two old gigs filmed on video. Admittedly, Thee Milkshakes twang up an impressive storm in 1984, but watching Thee Headcoats rock a crowd of about 10 in 1989 is much less gripping, even with cameos from Holly Golightly’s Headcoatees. Shame.

Cher

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A video compilation that's light on the '60s stuff but heavy on her years dressed as a member of M...

A video compilation that’s light on the ’60s stuff but heavy on her years dressed as a member of M

John Lee Hooker

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Respectful, if bitty, retrospective, laying out the boogie man's career by linking archive performances with comments from the likes of Ry Cooder, Bonnie Raitt and Hooker himself. It could have done with more of the early years, and less of what Nick Cave once called "unfortunate guitar work from Carlos Santana."

Respectful, if bitty, retrospective, laying out the boogie man’s career by linking archive performances with comments from the likes of Ry Cooder, Bonnie Raitt and Hooker himself. It could have done with more of the early years, and less of what Nick Cave once called “unfortunate guitar work from Carlos Santana.”

Check Your ED

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"He was a man who could brighten a room simply by leaving it," comedian Joe E Lewis said of Ed Sullivan, for 20 years the most powerful man in American music television. A stiff, shifty-looking Irish-American with all the charisma of a depressed mortician, Sullivan was the host of a Sunday night variety show that introduced America to Elvis, The Beatles and just about every other pop and rock act of the late '50s and '60s. The fact that Sullivan basically detested rock'n'roll?a loathing obvious from the way he introduced bands with the avuncular warmth of Richard Nixon?doesn't change the fact that he arguably did more to promote it than any other single figure in America. As Chris Hillman remarks in Elvis Presley And Other Rock Greats Rating Star , one of six DVDs of Sullivan show highlights: "If you got on The Ed Sullivan Show you had it made." Hillman's band, The Byrds, did get on the show?singing "Mr Tambourine Man"?but only once. As was his wont, the bolshy David Crosby got in a fight with Sullivan's producer. And as was Sullivan's wont, the fight got The Byrds banned from any future appearances on the show. Ditto The Doors after Jim Morrison sang "Girl, we couldn't get much higher" during "Light My Fire". Such was Sullivan's power. You can see how almost frightened bands are when he sidles up to them on stage. Even Elvis, whose appearances on the show remain breathtaking in their erotic self-delight, looks petrified when he shakes the hand of the man who could virtually make or break his career. Having said that, the exotic parade of junkies and acid casualties that passed through the show's New York studios?these DVDs feature Jefferson Airplane, Sly & The Family Stone, The Rolling Stones, Santana, Janis Joplin and more?is testament to a kind of courage. The six DVDs are all, in their way, cheesy as hell. Cheerily bland commentary?"sock-hops had given way to sit-ins!"?punctuates the original footage, some of which is glorious. Joplin is in full Etta James-on-mushrooms mode for "Raise Your Hand". On a medley of "Everyday People" and "Dance To The Music", Sly and Rose Stone shake it up in the aisles for the embarrassed squares. The Soul Of The Motor City Rating Star and The Temptations And The Supremes Rating Star volumes are outtasight: here's little Michael J in his purple pimp-fedora exploding on "I Want You Back"; there's the elongated David Ruffin whooping through "My Girl". Meanwhile, on Legends Of Rock Rating Star James Brown rides the grooves of "I Feel Good", "Prisoner Of Love", "Papa's Got A Brand New Bag" and "It's A Man's Man's Man's World". The best stuff of all is the schlock-pop of the psychedelic era. "There was a lighter side to 1968," announces the cheery commentator at the start of Chart Toppers '68/'69/'70 Rating Star , thereby prefacing a sequence of clips that feature such divine MOR fare as The Carpenters' "We've Only Just Begun" and Brooklyn Bridge's "The Worst That Could Happen". Almost as entertaining is the ridiculous Vanilla Fudge doing "You Keep Me Hangin' On" on Rockin' The Sixties Rating Star ?high camp in all but name. It's a good corrective to the notion that everything was wild and radical at the end of that decade, and it's certainly more fun than the ghastly Jefferson Airplane doing "Crown Of Creation". Who else? Well, there's pint-sized idol Frankie Valli shrieking through The Four Seasons' "Big Girls Don't Cry", as sharp and slick as Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. There's Jerry Lee Lewis in 1969, tossing off an effortless "What'd I Say". There's a brilliantly blank Tommy James singing the mesmerising "Crimson And Clover". You can't have got this far in life without having seen at least some of the Elvis and Beatles footage: suffice to say that it almost defined both of them at key junctures in their careers. Dour and puritanical Sullivan may have been, but entirely humourless he probably wasn't. "I would like to know the exact wording of your introduction," Brian Epstein informed him before The Beatles' historic February '64 appearance on the show. "I would like you to get lost," said Ed. Nice one.

“He was a man who could brighten a room simply by leaving it,” comedian Joe E Lewis said of Ed Sullivan, for 20 years the most powerful man in American music television.

A stiff, shifty-looking Irish-American with all the charisma of a depressed mortician, Sullivan was the host of a Sunday night variety show that introduced America to Elvis, The Beatles and just about every other pop and rock act of the late ’50s and ’60s.

The fact that Sullivan basically detested rock’n’roll?a loathing obvious from the way he introduced bands with the avuncular warmth of Richard Nixon?doesn’t change the fact that he arguably did more to promote it than any other single figure in America. As Chris Hillman remarks in Elvis Presley And Other Rock Greats Rating Star , one of six DVDs of Sullivan show highlights: “If you got on The Ed Sullivan Show you had it made.”

Hillman’s band, The Byrds, did get on the show?singing “Mr Tambourine Man”?but only once. As was his wont, the bolshy David Crosby got in a fight with Sullivan’s producer. And as was Sullivan’s wont, the fight got The Byrds banned from any future appearances on the show. Ditto The Doors after Jim Morrison sang “Girl, we couldn’t get much higher” during “Light My Fire”.

Such was Sullivan’s power. You can see how almost frightened bands are when he sidles up to them on stage. Even Elvis, whose appearances on the show remain breathtaking in their erotic self-delight, looks petrified when he shakes the hand of the man who could virtually make or break his career.

Having said that, the exotic parade of junkies and acid casualties that passed through the show’s New York studios?these DVDs feature Jefferson Airplane, Sly & The Family Stone, The Rolling Stones, Santana, Janis Joplin and more?is testament to a kind of courage.

The six DVDs are all, in their way, cheesy as hell. Cheerily bland commentary?”sock-hops had given way to sit-ins!”?punctuates the original footage, some of which is glorious. Joplin is in full Etta James-on-mushrooms mode for “Raise Your Hand”. On a medley of “Everyday People” and “Dance To The Music”, Sly and Rose Stone shake it up in the aisles for the embarrassed squares. The Soul Of The Motor City Rating Star and The Temptations And The Supremes Rating Star volumes are outtasight: here’s little Michael J in his purple pimp-fedora exploding on “I Want You Back”; there’s the elongated David Ruffin whooping through “My Girl”.

Meanwhile, on Legends Of Rock Rating Star James Brown rides the grooves of “I Feel Good”, “Prisoner Of Love”, “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” and “It’s A Man’s Man’s Man’s World”.

The best stuff of all is the schlock-pop of the psychedelic era. “There was a lighter side to 1968,” announces the cheery commentator at the start of Chart Toppers ’68/’69/’70 Rating Star , thereby prefacing a sequence of clips that feature such divine MOR fare as The Carpenters’ “We’ve Only Just Begun” and Brooklyn Bridge’s “The Worst That Could Happen”.

Almost as entertaining is the ridiculous Vanilla Fudge doing “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” on Rockin’ The Sixties Rating Star ?high camp in all but name. It’s a good corrective to the notion that everything was wild and radical at the end of that decade, and it’s certainly more fun than the ghastly Jefferson Airplane doing “Crown Of Creation”.

Who else? Well, there’s pint-sized idol Frankie Valli shrieking through The Four Seasons’ “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, as sharp and slick as Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. There’s Jerry Lee Lewis in 1969, tossing off an effortless “What’d I Say”. There’s a brilliantly blank Tommy James singing the mesmerising “Crimson And Clover”. You can’t have got this far in life without having seen at least some of the Elvis and Beatles footage: suffice to say that it almost defined both of them at key junctures in their careers.

Dour and puritanical Sullivan may have been, but entirely humourless he probably wasn’t. “I would like to know the exact wording of your introduction,” Brian Epstein informed him before The Beatles’ historic February ’64 appearance on the show. “I would like you to get lost,” said Ed. Nice one.

Forever Young

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Bob Dylan Fleadh 2004, London Finsbury Park Sunday June 20, 2004 When you've got something like 500 songs in your repertoire, it just gets too complicated to make set-lists. Between numbers?sometimes even halfway through the previous song?Bob Dylan shuffles across the stage and lets his band know what he fancies playing next. A check on one of the many Dylan websites, expectingrain.com, prior to his appearance at this year's Fleadh reveals that Dylan's previous five concerts have featured 50 different songs, including such surprises as "If Dogs Run Free" (from 1970's New Morning) and Townes Van Zandt's "Pancho & Lefty". In the event, at Finsbury Park, he plays neither. But every night is a new Bob experience, and he has plenty of other surprises up his sleeve. The first is the presence of Ronnie Wood throughout the set. With Dylan to the left of stage on keyboards, as during last autumn's tour, Wood?the only one of the band not dressed in black?forms a crunching three-pronged guitar line-up with Larry Campbell and recent recruit Stu Kimball, who has replaced Charlie Sexton. It lends the sound real attack, a rich, churning, blues-laden noise, like a cross between Highway 61 Revisited and Exile On Main St. The second surprise is the dominance of songs from 2001's Love & Theft, with "Lonesome Day Blues", "Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum", "High Water (For Charley Patton)", "Honest With Me" and "Summer Days" constituting a third of the set. This is fitting because?although few seem to have noticed?Love & Theft is the most fun record Dylan has ever made, a riot of hilarious throwaway lines and neat tricks. And up on stage tonight, Bob is out to enjoy himself. He clearly likes having Woody around, and the mood is almost frolicsome. Last autumn, he was moving so stiffly you had to keep wondering if he was going to fall over. Yet here he is at the end of a two-hour set, skipping across the stage as he joins the band to take his final bow. I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now, indeed. A spritely "Down Along The Cove" is a great opener that gives notice of his intent. "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" is at first barely recognisable in a countryish arrangement, but lovely. "Desolation Row" finds Dylan toying with the lyrics ("you're in the wrong ROOM my friend, you'd better HURRY UP AND leave"). But he's in total command. Around the fourth verse, Woody takes the song off in the direction of some cod reggae rhythm. Bob waits to see where it will go?and then when it's gone far enough pulls it back into shape with a few stabs of his keyboard. This is not one of his perfunctory, heads-down-and-see-you-at-the-end shows. The voice is passionate and urgent without ever sounding strident, and 40 minutes in he's still only completed five numbers. "Positively Fourth Street" is a revelation, slowed down so that all the anger is turned to disappointment and the viciousness to regret as Woody graces the song with an elegiac solo. Then, as twilight falls, Dylan walks across to the band and instructs them to play "Not Dark Yet". The crowd instantly recognises it, and the song raises one of the biggest cheers of the night. Of all the great songs on his last two albums, this is the one that has become a centrepiece of his canon, ranking alongside his finest compositions. He concludes with a storming rockabilly romp on "Summer Days", before encoring with "Like A Rolling Stone". There's been no "Mr Tambourine Man" or "All Along The Watchtower" or "Don't Think Twice". But he's got several hundred more where they came from, and nobody leaves Finsbury Park disappointed. Earlier, both Fleadh stages had hosted a troop of Dylan disciples. Tim Burgess could hardly contain his excitement and was maybe a little overawed, for The Charlatans' set failed to ignite in the wet conditions, until Woody joined them to crank out the familiar riff of The Faces' "Stay With Me". Counting Crows fared better with the weather, and their rootsy blend of classic American rock raised spirits, while John Prine entranced with his wit and a voice that sounded almost as deliciously cracked as Bob's own.

Bob Dylan

Fleadh 2004, London Finsbury Park Sunday June 20, 2004

When you’ve got something like 500 songs in your repertoire, it just gets too complicated to make set-lists. Between numbers?sometimes even halfway through the previous song?Bob Dylan shuffles across the stage and lets his band know what he fancies playing next. A check on one of the many Dylan websites, expectingrain.com, prior to his appearance at this year’s Fleadh reveals that Dylan’s previous five concerts have featured 50 different songs, including such surprises as “If Dogs Run Free” (from 1970’s New Morning) and Townes Van Zandt’s “Pancho & Lefty”. In the event, at Finsbury Park, he plays neither. But every night is a new Bob experience, and he has plenty of other surprises up his sleeve.

The first is the presence of Ronnie Wood throughout the set. With Dylan to the left of stage on keyboards, as during last autumn’s tour, Wood?the only one of the band not dressed in black?forms a crunching three-pronged guitar line-up with Larry Campbell and recent recruit Stu Kimball, who has replaced Charlie Sexton. It lends the sound real attack, a rich, churning, blues-laden noise, like a cross between Highway 61 Revisited and Exile On Main St.

The second surprise is the dominance of songs from 2001’s Love & Theft, with “Lonesome Day Blues”, “Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum”, “High Water (For Charley Patton)”, “Honest With Me” and “Summer Days” constituting a third of the set.

This is fitting because?although few seem to have noticed?Love & Theft is the most fun record Dylan has ever made, a riot of hilarious throwaway lines and neat tricks. And up on stage tonight, Bob is out to enjoy himself. He clearly likes having Woody around, and the mood is almost frolicsome. Last autumn, he was moving so stiffly you had to keep wondering if he was going to fall over. Yet here he is at the end of a two-hour set, skipping across the stage as he joins the band to take his final bow. I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now, indeed.

A spritely “Down Along The Cove” is a great opener that gives notice of his intent. “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue” is at first barely recognisable in a countryish arrangement, but lovely. “Desolation Row” finds Dylan toying with the lyrics (“you’re in the wrong ROOM my friend, you’d better HURRY UP AND leave”). But he’s in total command. Around the fourth verse, Woody takes the song off in the direction of some cod reggae rhythm. Bob waits to see where it will go?and then when it’s gone far enough pulls it back into shape with a few stabs of his keyboard. This is not one of his perfunctory, heads-down-and-see-you-at-the-end shows. The voice is passionate and urgent without ever sounding strident, and 40 minutes in he’s still only completed five numbers.

“Positively Fourth Street” is a revelation, slowed down so that all the anger is turned to disappointment and the viciousness to regret as Woody graces the song with an elegiac solo. Then, as twilight falls, Dylan walks across to the band and instructs them to play “Not Dark Yet”. The crowd instantly recognises it, and the song raises one of the biggest cheers of the night. Of all the great songs on his last two albums, this is the one that has become a centrepiece of his canon, ranking alongside his finest compositions. He concludes with a storming rockabilly romp on “Summer Days”, before encoring with “Like A Rolling Stone”.

There’s been no “Mr Tambourine Man” or “All Along The Watchtower” or “Don’t Think Twice”. But he’s got several hundred more where they came from, and nobody leaves Finsbury Park disappointed.

Earlier, both Fleadh stages had hosted a troop of Dylan disciples. Tim Burgess could hardly contain his excitement and was maybe a little overawed, for The Charlatans’ set failed to ignite in the wet conditions, until Woody joined them to crank out the familiar riff of The Faces’ “Stay With Me”. Counting Crows fared better with the weather, and their rootsy blend of classic American rock raised spirits, while John Prine entranced with his wit and a voice that sounded almost as deliciously cracked as Bob’s own.

Sparks

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Sparks are too actively smart and inquisitive to be a nostalgia act, but at Morrissey's request they gamely perform Kimono My House (their astonishing 1974 breakthrough album) as a one-off for his Meltdown Festival. The condition being that the Californians then, after an interval, present their most recent (19th) long-player, Lil'Beethoven. If many of us made the trip to behold the glam-punk-opera swoops of the 30-year-old album, we left equally dazzled by the manic repetitions and Broadway stagings of the later work?a testament to the Mael Brothers' continuing (ir) relevance. They are?still?unlike any other band. Too brainy for pop, too much fun to be art. Uniquely refreshing and exhilarating. Their merchandise reads: "Let's Art Rock". Franz Ferdinand might want to buy T-shirts. The Kimono set, raucously applauded by tear-stained devotees, begins with the familiar fairground rides of "This Town Ain't Big Enoug..."and "Amateur Hour". With musicians borrowed from Faith No More, Red Kross, Daniel Lanois and Henry Rollins, this Sparks incarnation is decidedly aggressive. The rawness, though, is offset by the energetic Russell's far-out falsetto, Ron's deadpan stasis, and those inspired lyrics which spun the heads of a 10cc/early-Queen generation caught between Ziggy and Berlin Iggy. "Falling In Love With Myself Again", "Thank God It's Not Christmas"?no one quite believed what they were hearing back then, and still can't. Somehow these songs merge abandon and restraint. In "Here In Heaven", Romeo's pissed off that Juliet didn't die with him as agreed: "It's hell knowing that your health will keep you out of here for many, many years." It's a sad fact that comedy, however dark, won't win you the kudos a straight face will. Which is why Kimono My House isn't as revered as the first Roxy album or Aladdin Sane. It's one of its decade's top ten bursts of genius, and if Morrissey's pitching it to a new troupe of teens, good on him. Not that Sparks need sympathy: when Russell throws his castanets into the crowd, someone uses my shoulders as a trampoline to claim them. Maybe we stick around for Lil' Beethoven through politeness, but we're soon rapt by an extraordinary spectacle. Fuelled by wit and not budget, it uses slides, films, slogans and the brothers'interaction to create a Michael Nyman-meets-Mary Poppins-at-the-Mudd Club monolith. Ron dons five-foot-long arms, holds a lighter up to Russell's warbling, struts across stage with a Marilyn lookalike on "Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls". On "I Married Myself"he chases an elusive celluloid 'bride'across the backdrop. On "Your Call Is Very Important To Us", he's teased, tempted, then frustrated. The concept's theme: money defeats love. It has you thinking it's satire, then leaves you moved and marvelling. That's Sparks all over: theirs is a light that will never go out. Bravo!

Sparks are too actively smart and inquisitive to be a nostalgia act, but at Morrissey’s request they gamely perform Kimono My House (their astonishing 1974 breakthrough album) as a one-off for his Meltdown Festival. The condition being that the Californians then, after an interval, present their most recent (19th) long-player, Lil’Beethoven.

If many of us made the trip to behold the glam-punk-opera swoops of the 30-year-old album, we left equally dazzled by the manic repetitions and Broadway stagings of the later work?a testament to the Mael Brothers’ continuing (ir) relevance. They are?still?unlike any other band. Too brainy for pop, too much fun to be art. Uniquely refreshing and exhilarating. Their merchandise reads: “Let’s Art Rock”. Franz Ferdinand might want to buy T-shirts. The Kimono set, raucously applauded by tear-stained devotees, begins with the familiar fairground rides of “This Town Ain’t Big Enoug…”and “Amateur Hour”. With musicians borrowed from Faith No More, Red Kross, Daniel Lanois and Henry Rollins, this Sparks incarnation is decidedly aggressive. The rawness, though, is offset by the energetic Russell’s far-out falsetto, Ron’s deadpan stasis, and those inspired lyrics which spun the heads of a 10cc/early-Queen generation caught between Ziggy and Berlin Iggy. “Falling In Love With Myself Again”, “Thank God It’s Not Christmas”?no one quite believed what they were hearing back then, and still can’t. Somehow these songs merge abandon and restraint. In “Here In Heaven”, Romeo’s pissed off that Juliet didn’t die with him as agreed: “It’s hell knowing that your health will keep you out of here for many, many years.”

It’s a sad fact that comedy, however dark, won’t win you the kudos a straight face will. Which is why Kimono My House isn’t as revered as the first Roxy album or Aladdin Sane. It’s one of its decade’s top ten bursts of genius, and if Morrissey’s pitching it to a new troupe of teens, good on him. Not that Sparks need sympathy: when Russell throws his castanets into the crowd, someone uses my shoulders as a trampoline to claim them.

Maybe we stick around for Lil’ Beethoven through politeness, but we’re soon rapt by an extraordinary spectacle. Fuelled by wit and not budget, it uses slides, films, slogans and the brothers’interaction to create a Michael Nyman-meets-Mary Poppins-at-the-Mudd Club monolith. Ron dons five-foot-long arms, holds a lighter up to Russell’s warbling, struts across stage with a Marilyn lookalike on “Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls”. On “I Married Myself”he chases an elusive celluloid ‘bride’across the backdrop. On “Your Call Is Very Important To Us”, he’s teased, tempted, then frustrated. The concept’s theme: money defeats love. It has you thinking it’s satire, then leaves you moved and marvelling. That’s Sparks all over: theirs is a light that will never go out. Bravo!

One Foot In The Groove

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Red Hot Chili Peppers/James Brown Hyde Park, London Sunday 20 June, 2004 Just how seriously can you take the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Or am I missing the point? It's always been possible to applaud the clownish gymnastic bacchanalianism of Flea, Kiedis and chums without ranking them very high in the list of All-Time Greats. And yet somehow there they are, improbable survivors and glorious upholders of the band/gang ethic, keepers of some archaic faith in the power of spectacle and rhythmic cohesion. What's most singular about the Chili Peppers is that their Hollywood Babylon laddishness is anchored in something that's had little discernible influence on the rock or dance subcultures of the past 15 years?funk. It's a shame, therefore, that James Brown, architect of funk's on-the-one groove, is a spent vaudevillian force, and therefore a rather tepid support act. Fresh from more domestic turmoil back home in Jow-jah, the Godfather preaches in the Park to yet another congregation of white people, serving up everything from the itchy disco groove of "Get Up Offa That Thing"to the wack and unwanted "Living In America". It's a hollow ritual at best. By contrast, the Chili Peppers are, well, red hot. Flanked by massive but crisp-clear images of themselves?black-and-white before sunset, colour thereafter?they give us two hours of super-Cali-fragilistic punk-funk that's like some kind of inspired copulation between Bootsy Collins and The Circle Jerks. What's so great about the band is the leanness of their hyper-syncopated grooves. With the brute lumberjack presence of drummer Chad Smith behind them, back-from-the-dead guitarist John Frusciante and bassman Flea?the Pan of the four-stringed universe?intertwine sublimely within wide open spaces. They require no sonic camouflage to hide behind. Anthony Kiedis?recovering fuck-up, muscled Hollywood brat, crap singer?is surely one of the great rock frontmen. But he's also more serious, more passionately involved in the Peppers'vignettes of damage and salvation than I'd anticipated. There's predictably little material from before the group started working with the great Rick Rubin, who wanders past me halfway through the set. The vast Hyde Park crowd sates itself on "Around The World", "Scar Tissue", "Parallel Universe", "Get On Top"and most of the rest of 1999's Californication and 2002's By The Way. There's also a hysterical cover of Looking Glass'"Brandy", and Frusciante drops into falsetto-sung interludes like The Chantels'"Maybe"and Donna Summer's "I Feel Love". Red Hot Chili Peppers are out on their own, cut loose from ageing peers like U2 and R.E.M.. Built on their ribald funk bases, they may be The Last Great Rock Band to flourish in the world of pop floss and digitised bling. Their scar tissue well hidden, they're also a band for all the family?Hyde Park was full of them. "London in the summertime/Cuss me out and it'll feel alright..."

Red Hot Chili Peppers/James Brown

Hyde Park, London Sunday 20 June, 2004

Just how seriously can you take the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Or am I missing the point? It’s always been possible to applaud the clownish gymnastic bacchanalianism of Flea, Kiedis and chums without ranking them very high in the list of All-Time Greats. And yet somehow there they are, improbable survivors and glorious upholders of the band/gang ethic, keepers of some archaic faith in the power of spectacle and rhythmic cohesion.

What’s most singular about the Chili Peppers is that their Hollywood Babylon laddishness is anchored in something that’s had little discernible influence on the rock or dance subcultures of the past 15 years?funk.

It’s a shame, therefore, that James Brown, architect of funk’s on-the-one groove, is a spent vaudevillian force, and therefore a rather tepid support act. Fresh from more domestic turmoil back home in Jow-jah, the Godfather preaches in the Park to yet another congregation of white people, serving up everything from the itchy disco groove of “Get Up Offa That Thing”to the wack and unwanted “Living In America”. It’s a hollow ritual at best.

By contrast, the Chili Peppers are, well, red hot. Flanked by massive but crisp-clear images of themselves?black-and-white before sunset, colour thereafter?they give us two hours of super-Cali-fragilistic punk-funk that’s like some kind of inspired copulation between Bootsy Collins and The Circle Jerks.

What’s so great about the band is the leanness of their hyper-syncopated grooves. With the brute lumberjack presence of drummer Chad Smith behind them, back-from-the-dead guitarist John Frusciante and bassman Flea?the Pan of the four-stringed universe?intertwine sublimely within wide open spaces. They require no sonic camouflage to hide behind. Anthony Kiedis?recovering fuck-up, muscled Hollywood brat, crap singer?is surely one of the great rock frontmen. But he’s also more serious, more passionately involved in the Peppers’vignettes of damage and salvation than I’d anticipated.

There’s predictably little material from before the group started working with the great Rick Rubin, who wanders past me halfway through the set. The vast Hyde Park crowd sates itself on “Around The World”, “Scar Tissue”, “Parallel Universe”, “Get On Top”and most of the rest of 1999’s Californication and 2002’s By The Way. There’s also a hysterical cover of Looking Glass'”Brandy”, and Frusciante drops into falsetto-sung interludes like The Chantels'”Maybe”and Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”. Red Hot Chili Peppers are out on their own, cut loose from ageing peers like U2 and R.E.M.. Built on their ribald funk bases, they may be The Last Great Rock Band to flourish in the world of pop floss and digitised bling. Their scar tissue well hidden, they’re also a band for all the family?Hyde Park was full of them. “London in the summertime/Cuss me out and it’ll feel alright…”

Trash And Burn

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The New York Dolls Meltdown, Royal Festival Hall, London Friday June 18, 2004 The first time i saw the original New York Dolls was in 1973, in a small town in upstate New York, and they were booed off stage. Granted they were sloppy musically, but it was their smart-arse attitude and camp, gender-bending posturing that outraged the hippie crowd. Such antics may have gone down well in the hip, arty centres of NY and LA, but the rest of the world, it seemed, was not ready for the Dolls. Fast forward 30 years, and the reception the proto-punk legends received at the second of their special reunion gigs for Morrissey's Meltdown Festival couldn't have been more different. From the moment they launched into "Looking For A Kiss", the audience sprang to its feet, and remained standing through to the encore of "Human Being" an hour and 45 minutes later. Lead singer David Johansen was in excellent voice?I can only presume the droplets he kept taking between songs must have been some kind of elixir, because he seemed truly invigorated, preening and prancing about the stage with an energy and charisma most lead singers can only dream about. Johansen may have briefly morphed into some kind of bearded elder statesman, but tonight he was rock showman supreme. Between songs, he exchanged racy banter with guitarist Sylvain Sylvain, who resembled a punk Dion DiMucci with his floppy cap, black leather belt and armbands, while Arthur "Killer" Kane, who sadly passed away as Uncut went to press (see Obituaries, p34); plucked away on bass. The big question was how the group would fare without the late Johnny Thunders, the trash-glam Keith Richards to Johansen's Mick Jagger, but fill-in guitarist Steve Conte couldn't have been better. He had all of Thunders' spare, scorching licks and sassy moves down pat, but with a presence all his own. The band paid tribute to their former guitarist with a version of his "You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory", Sylvain whining out lead vocals until the song segued into "Lonely Planet Boy" from the group's eponymous first album. The Dolls performed every track from that LP, augmented by tunes such as "Puss 'n' Boots", "Who Are The Mystery Girls?", and "Babylon" from Too Much Too Soon, along with covers of songs by The Shangri-La's and Janis Joplin. Stepping in on drums for Jerry Nolan, who passed away in 1992, was The Libertines'Gary Powell, who did his hard-hitting predecessor proud, providing the group with its musical backbone, thrust and drive, while a keyboard player rounded out the sound. Usually these kind of reunions have been prompted by overdue mortgage payments or stalled careers, and as often as not the group has long passed its sell-by date, reduced to churning out past hits like its own tribute band. Not so with The New York Dolls, who sounded better than ever and appeared to be truly enjoying themselves, while the songs maintained their freshness, power and vibrancy. They certainly taught their contemporaries and today's young gunslingers a thing or two. Thirty years ago, the Dolls were a sloppy band with great songs and loads of attitude and style. Tonight they were simply great.

The New York Dolls

Meltdown, Royal Festival Hall, London Friday June 18, 2004

The first time i saw the original New York Dolls was in 1973, in a small town in upstate New York, and they were booed off stage. Granted they were sloppy musically, but it was their smart-arse attitude and camp, gender-bending posturing that outraged the hippie crowd. Such antics may have gone down well in the hip, arty centres of NY and LA, but the rest of the world, it seemed, was not ready for the Dolls.

Fast forward 30 years, and the reception the proto-punk legends received at the second of their special reunion gigs for Morrissey’s Meltdown Festival couldn’t have been more different. From the moment they launched into “Looking For A Kiss”, the audience sprang to its feet, and remained standing through to the encore of “Human Being” an hour and 45 minutes later.

Lead singer David Johansen was in excellent voice?I can only presume the droplets he kept taking between songs must have been some kind of elixir, because he seemed truly invigorated, preening and prancing about the stage with an energy and charisma most lead singers can only dream about. Johansen may have briefly morphed into some kind of bearded elder statesman, but tonight he was rock showman supreme. Between songs, he exchanged racy banter with guitarist Sylvain Sylvain, who resembled a punk Dion DiMucci with his floppy cap, black leather belt and armbands, while Arthur “Killer” Kane, who sadly passed away as Uncut went to press (see Obituaries, p34); plucked away on bass.

The big question was how the group would fare without the late Johnny Thunders, the trash-glam Keith Richards to Johansen’s Mick Jagger, but fill-in guitarist Steve Conte couldn’t have been better. He had all of Thunders’ spare, scorching licks and sassy moves down pat, but with a presence all his own. The band paid tribute to their former guitarist with a version of his “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory”, Sylvain whining out lead vocals until the song segued into “Lonely Planet Boy” from the group’s eponymous first album. The Dolls performed every track from that LP, augmented by tunes such as “Puss ‘n’ Boots”, “Who Are The Mystery Girls?”, and “Babylon” from Too Much Too Soon, along with covers of songs by The Shangri-La’s and Janis Joplin.

Stepping in on drums for Jerry Nolan, who passed away in 1992, was The Libertines’Gary Powell, who did his hard-hitting predecessor proud, providing the group with its musical backbone, thrust and drive, while a keyboard player rounded out the sound.

Usually these kind of reunions have been prompted by overdue mortgage payments or stalled careers, and as often as not the group has long passed its sell-by date, reduced to churning out past hits like its own tribute band. Not so with The New York Dolls, who sounded better than ever and appeared to be truly enjoying themselves, while the songs maintained their freshness, power and vibrancy. They certainly taught their contemporaries and today’s young gunslingers a thing or two.

Thirty years ago, the Dolls were a sloppy band with great songs and loads of attitude and style. Tonight they were simply great.

Carly Simon

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Pre-"You're So Vain" and pre-marriage to James Taylor, the leggy, large-mouthed Park Avenue Simon made two pleasant 1971 albums. LA-flavoured and sprinkled with gems like "Alone", Carly Simon and Anticipation (with its irresistibly come-hither cover) are tailor-made for admirers of Tapestry or Streisand's Stoney End. Piano, pedal-steel and Russ Kunkel drums abound, while strings circle about Simon's nice, folkish voice like her gauzy Anticipation skirt wafting around those endless legs.

Pre-“You’re So Vain” and pre-marriage to James Taylor, the leggy, large-mouthed Park Avenue Simon made two pleasant 1971 albums. LA-flavoured and sprinkled with gems like “Alone”, Carly Simon and Anticipation (with its irresistibly come-hither cover) are tailor-made for admirers of Tapestry or Streisand’s Stoney End. Piano, pedal-steel and Russ Kunkel drums abound, while strings circle about Simon’s nice, folkish voice like her gauzy Anticipation skirt wafting around those endless legs.

Blank Veneration

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For some of us, the definitive first blast of "punk rock" wasn't "New Rose" or even "Beat On The Brat", but "(I'm) Stranded", a high-octane neo-Stooges broadside from, of all places, Brisbane. Dateline June 1976. The work of four surly vagrants bearing the gang-like moniker The Saints, "(I'm) Stranded" was raw and visceral at a time when we were still stirring from the quagmire of stadium pomp. The dream of Lester Bangs' scuzz-pop incarnate, in one fell swoop it vindicated the wilderness years of Little Jimmy Osterberg and a thousand glue-sniffing garage rodents. The Saints weren't doing anything that radical on the I'm Stranded album (1977). But they looked so cool and bored on the cover, and their sound was unrepentantly unpolished. Ed Kuepper's Gibson SG was cranked and gnarly, Ivor Hay's drums all but buried in the Raw Power-ish mix. And snarling over the top was pudgeboy Chris Bailey, a distillation of Reeperbahn Lennon and Belfast Van, and one of the great punk larynxes. Best of all is the closing "Nights In Venice", a torrent of noise as savage as anything that ever spewed out of Detroit's Grande Ballroom. Eternally Yours (1978) rarely matches its predecessor for intensity, but is still much overlooked: a scathing condemnation of consumerism in "Orstralia" with the added kick of an R&B-flavoured horn section. Snarling diatribes like "Know Your Product" and "Lost And Found" are nicely offset by such bruised 'ballads' as "Untitled" and "Memories Are Made Of This". The same year's Prehistoric Sounds was a template for the artier and even horn-ier direction Kuepper would take with his Laughing Clowns. Live In London, meanwhile, captures the band in all their uncouth, don't-give-a-fuck glory. I loved this band and so should you.

For some of us, the definitive first blast of “punk rock” wasn’t “New Rose” or even “Beat On The Brat”, but “(I’m) Stranded”, a high-octane neo-Stooges broadside from, of all places, Brisbane. Dateline June 1976. The work of four surly vagrants bearing the gang-like moniker The Saints, “(I’m) Stranded” was raw and visceral at a time when we were still stirring from the quagmire of stadium pomp. The dream of Lester Bangs’ scuzz-pop incarnate, in one fell swoop it vindicated the wilderness years of Little Jimmy Osterberg and a thousand glue-sniffing garage rodents.

The Saints weren’t doing anything that radical on the I’m Stranded album (1977). But they looked so cool and bored on the cover, and their sound was unrepentantly unpolished. Ed Kuepper’s Gibson SG was cranked and gnarly, Ivor Hay’s drums all but buried in the Raw Power-ish mix. And snarling over the top was pudgeboy Chris Bailey, a distillation of Reeperbahn Lennon and Belfast Van, and one of the great punk larynxes. Best of all is the closing “Nights In Venice”, a torrent of noise as savage as anything that ever spewed out of Detroit’s Grande Ballroom.

Eternally Yours (1978) rarely matches its predecessor for intensity, but is still much overlooked: a scathing condemnation of consumerism in “Orstralia” with the added kick of an R&B-flavoured horn section. Snarling diatribes like “Know Your Product” and “Lost And Found” are nicely offset by such bruised ‘ballads’ as “Untitled” and “Memories Are Made Of This”. The same year’s Prehistoric Sounds was a template for the artier and even horn-ier direction Kuepper would take with his Laughing Clowns. Live In London, meanwhile, captures the band in all their uncouth, don’t-give-a-fuck glory. I loved this band and so should you.

Screen Play

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The idea is simple enough-you take an iconic artist and package two CDs of their best and/or most collectable work together with a DVD. BB KING ANTHOLOGY 1962-1998 establishes the template-34 audio tracks ranging from "The Thrill Is Gone" to "When Love Comes To Town", with a film of King performing at the Blues Summit concert with Buddy Guy and Albert Collins. JAMES BROWN 50TH ANNIVERSARY COLLECTIONRating Star is even more of a feast, with 50 audio tracks including all the hits, plus a DVD of Channel 4's excellent recent documentary The James Brown Story. Anyone who was a teenager during the punk/new age explosion of the late '70s will now be in their 40s-hence THE SOUND OF THE JAMRating Star , with 49 CD tracks and 11 videos on DVD, and THE BEST OF SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEESRating Star , comprising a best-of CD, a second remix CD and 14 videos appearing on DVD for the first time. Of similar vintage is THE POLICE: EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE with a greatest hits disc, a live CD and a DVD miscellany, including an Old Grey Whistle Test appearance. ROBERT PALMER AT HIS VERY BESTRating Star features 33 CD tracks, including material from his early, Little Feat-assisted albums plus a DVD of those videos.ROGER WATERS: THE WALL LIVE IN BERLIN teams the 1990 double CD recording, featuring the likes of Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell, with a DVD of the event, which, despite the imbecility of the work itself, is dramatically rendered. Finally, the most contemporary release in the series is THE VERY BEST OF SHERYL CROWRating Star , which includes a greatest hits collection, an in-concert CD and 14 fluffy videos.

The idea is simple enough-you take an iconic artist and package two CDs of their best and/or most collectable work together with a DVD. BB KING ANTHOLOGY 1962-1998 establishes the template-34 audio tracks ranging from “The Thrill Is Gone” to “When Love Comes To Town”, with a film of King performing at the Blues Summit concert with Buddy Guy and Albert Collins. JAMES BROWN 50TH ANNIVERSARY COLLECTIONRating Star is even more of a feast, with 50 audio tracks including all the hits, plus a DVD of Channel 4’s excellent recent documentary The James Brown Story.

Anyone who was a teenager during the punk/new age explosion of the late ’70s will now be in their 40s-hence THE SOUND OF THE JAMRating Star , with 49 CD tracks and 11 videos on DVD, and THE BEST OF SIOUXSIE & THE BANSHEESRating Star , comprising a best-of CD, a second remix CD and 14 videos appearing on DVD for the first time. Of similar vintage is THE POLICE: EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE with a greatest hits disc, a live CD and a DVD miscellany, including an Old Grey Whistle Test appearance.

ROBERT PALMER AT HIS VERY BESTRating Star features 33 CD tracks, including material from his early, Little Feat-assisted albums plus a DVD of those videos.ROGER WATERS: THE WALL LIVE IN BERLIN teams the 1990 double CD recording, featuring the likes of Van Morrison and Joni Mitchell, with a DVD of the event, which, despite the imbecility of the work itself, is dramatically rendered. Finally, the most contemporary release in the series is THE VERY BEST OF SHERYL CROWRating Star , which includes a greatest hits collection, an in-concert CD and 14 fluffy videos.

Various Artists – Dread Meets B-Boys Downtown

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When The Clash invited Letts over to the Big Apple in '81 to film their US. endeavours, the dreadlocked selector found himself on hip hop's frontline, where punk, disco, electro and reggae converged to create a mutant street music. There's nothing you haven't heard before-simmering standards by Fab 5 Freddy, Grandmaster Flash, Babe Ruth et al conjure a block party vibe. But, as with his account of late-'70s London on 2001's Dread Meets Punk Rockers Uptown, Letts' sleevenotes make this a superior summary of one of pop's livelier episodes.

When The Clash invited Letts over to the Big Apple in ’81 to film their US. endeavours, the dreadlocked selector found himself on hip hop’s frontline, where punk, disco, electro and reggae converged to create a mutant street music. There’s nothing you haven’t heard before-simmering standards by Fab 5 Freddy, Grandmaster Flash, Babe Ruth et al conjure a block party vibe. But, as with his account of late-’70s London on 2001’s Dread Meets Punk Rockers Uptown, Letts’ sleevenotes make this a superior summary of one of pop’s livelier episodes.

Alex Chilton

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Unless you've got dusty 45s of "Bangkok", his classic cover of The Seeds' "Can't Seem To Make You Mine" or his masochistic "Take Me Home & Make Me Like It" in your Chilton collection, you need Lost Decade. Add the post-Box Tops experiments with blue-eyed soul and Star-struck rock chic of "Free Again" or "Just To See You" and this double set becomes compulsory listening. Alex as producer surfaces in Memphis recordings of local acts Sugar Blues, Larry Davis and Scott Adams, his stablemates at Ardent. And the live Belgian set is further confirmation that he's hung up forever on New Orleans R&B with covers of Ernie K Doe and Chris Kenner. Big Star's "In The Street" gets an airing, but expect more of Chilton's soul trip when that new BS album surfaces soon.

Unless you’ve got dusty 45s of “Bangkok”, his classic cover of The Seeds’ “Can’t Seem To Make You Mine” or his masochistic “Take Me Home & Make Me Like It” in your Chilton collection, you need Lost Decade. Add the post-Box Tops experiments with blue-eyed soul and Star-struck rock chic of “Free Again” or “Just To See You” and this double set becomes compulsory listening. Alex as producer surfaces in Memphis recordings of local acts Sugar Blues, Larry Davis and Scott Adams, his stablemates at Ardent. And the live Belgian set is further confirmation that he’s hung up forever on New Orleans R&B with covers of Ernie K Doe and Chris Kenner. Big Star’s “In The Street” gets an airing, but expect more of Chilton’s soul trip when that new BS album surfaces soon.

The Long Ryders – The Best Of The Long Ryders

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Twenty years ago, the likes of The Jayhawks and Lucinda Williams used to open for The Long Ryders, then leaders of LA's "Paisley Underground", and their shotgun marriage of punk and country paved the way for much of what's happened since. Tracks such as "Gunslinger Man" and "Looking For Lewis And Clark" are pure Strummer-meets-Haggard, while "Lights Of Downtown" and "I Had A Dream" demonstrate their debt to the Byrds/Burritos legacy. No depression, indeed.

Twenty years ago, the likes of The Jayhawks and Lucinda Williams used to open for The Long Ryders, then leaders of LA’s “Paisley Underground”, and their shotgun marriage of punk and country paved the way for much of what’s happened since. Tracks such as “Gunslinger Man” and “Looking For Lewis And Clark” are pure Strummer-meets-Haggard, while “Lights Of Downtown” and “I Had A Dream” demonstrate their debt to the Byrds/Burritos legacy. No depression, indeed.

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