Im not as fat as I look, honest! All that effort in shedding those pounds, undermined by a dodgy camera angle! Cant post you the link to EDP as yet, but if by chance youve seen todays paper then youll know what Im on about. Of course, all publicity is good publicity, and it was pleasing that this latest peace - sorry,piece - of press for the Vault came about directly as a result of this blog. So I suppose social media does work, after a fashion. Hmmm... Anyway, I must give even more profound thanks than usual to The Serene Sarah for keeping that stampface queue moving in the busiest week of the year, just as I was struggling to cope with a heavy cold - yeah yeah, man flu if you must - that had me lying on the floor out of sight of that stampface queue for part of Wednesday. Or maybe it was just because of the prospect of having to deal with yet more public ire on account of the fact that we were soon to run out of second class stamps, for the second year in succession. Unless we are affected by the CWU strike - and, of course, I always support trade unionists when they are taking industrial action - then we shall receive more of those lil blue sticky whatsits on Tuesday, in good time for last second-class posting day, on Thursday. By last night I was feeling well enough to venture down from The Riviera to freezing Norwich for an appointment with The Ruts, one of Englands greatest punk bands, who I last saw the better part of 40 years ago - Rob Noxious will know the date - at Scamps nightclub in Southend-on-Sea. Once seen, never forgotten, so it was really great to catch up with the boys again. The Clash may have changed the course of music history with their incendiary cover of Junior Murvins immortal Police & Thieves, but those of us who know would suggest that The Ruts were even better at mining that fertile punk-reggae interface, as I shall demonstrate shortly. Back to our Linn tales, though, and we began our Frantic Friday, pre-photocall, with the second half of the great Man album with which we ended Thursday, before enjoying another feast of Aretha Franklin, with Aretha Now (Atlantic), featuring the unbelievably sublime I Say A Little Prayer and Arethas take on I Take What I Want, a song first made known to me as an eager-to-learn teen by the late, great Rory Gallagher on his fab 75 album Against The Grain. We passed on from Lady Soul to The Cocaine Cowboys, with The Eagles One Of These Nights (Asylum), the title track of which will forever remind me of lonely angst-ridden teenage nights with only Radio Caroline for company. Sad but true. From The Eagles, we moved on to a Zep double bill, with Atlantics Volume III - featuring the bands most sublime moment, in the magnificent Since Ive Been Loving You - followed by Swan Songs Presence, an album I didnt much enjoy on its release way back in 76 but which I thoroughly enjoyed this time around, especially the magnificent slow blues closer, Tea For One, which rivalled the aforementioned Loving You in poignancy. After Zep came The Stones, with the brilliantly rough-edged if iffily-recorded live effort Get Yer Ya-Yas Out (Decca, 1969), before another dose of the mighty Aretha with Aretha Arrives (Atlantic). Friday ended, and Saturday began, with a terrific blues album, Stone Dirt by The Dirty Blues Band (Stateside, 1968), featuring two terrific Willie Dixon covers that were interesting to contrast with Zeps treatment of the same tunes on their first outing. Another great blues album - with a wonderfully soulful edge - followed with Jimmy Witherspoons A Spoonful Of Soul (Verve, 1968), before another taste of Canned Heat with their wonderful Cookbook album, on Liberty. And so another week of Linn-spinning exuberance came to an end. Next week should be no less frantic, and well hope to see you there, in downtown Holt, where well remain on heavy rotation all week with the finest sounds around, without an ipod or a CD in sight. For us, the future is not digital - it is absolutely, always, unapologetically and forever analogue. So lets keep it retro, good people. Like this, from those great, glorious, never-to-be-forgotten days that changed the world, when black and white united to smash The National Front and that idiot Farage - rhymes with garage - was just a silver-spooned brat at Dulwich College: https://youtube/watch?v=smjICfrHCoM
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 17:32:52 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015