500 singles - Number 297 - Anthony Newley – Lifetime of happiness

Like many of the singles on the 500 singles list, how I happen to be in possession of this particular gem by actor, songwriter, crooner, raconteur, former husband of Joan Collins and role model for the young David Bowie is an absolute and total mystery. But here it is.

Now better known as an actor (he was the Artful Dodger in David Lean’s definitive film version of Oliver Twist and Matthew Mugg in Richard Fleischer’s equally definitive film version of Doctor Dolittle) and songwriter (writing the theme from the James Bond film ‘Goldfinger’ with John Barry and the soundtrack to the film ‘Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory’ with co-writer Leslie Bricusse, which proved to have a life far beyond the garishly coloured film). Most surprisingly, in a revelation as shocking as the news that Michael Nesmith’s mother invented Tipp-Ex or that Hedy Lamarr invented the fore-runner to Bluetooth, Newley and Bricusse also penned the Nina Simone classic ‘Feeling good’. Although if you have a listen to Newley’s own version you’ll hear it has none of Nina’s balls.

Released by Decca in 1960, hot on the heels of two consecutive Number 1 hit singles for the 28 year old from Hackney with the cheeky smile (‘Why’ in January 1960 and ‘Do you mind’ in March 1960) the single, whose actual A side is ‘If she should come to you (La Montana)’ is a double sided croony gem of the kind that was damned to imminent extinction by the looming sounds coming out of Detroit and, ultimately, Liverpool.

If you have any doubts about the Newley/Bowie comparisons can I suggest that you listen to Anthony’s ‘Pop goes the weasel’ and David’s ‘The laughing gnome’ back to back if you can manage it.

Thanks for reading and, don't forget, my Kindle book is still available if only you're brave enough to follow this clever little link;

The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy Of Cassettes

10 significant records

Every now and again I come up with a list. It's what men do to avoid the real world. So here, since you asked, is a list of 10 records of special significance. Not necessarily 10 brilliant records, although some are undoubtedly brilliant, but 10 records that for one reason or another really mean something to me.

Benny Hill – Ernie (The Fastest Milkman In The West)

When we were kids we’d often spend family Saturday nights at the bowling alley, located at The Mayfair at The Wheatsheaf in Sunderland (for years I thought this area of Sunderland was actually called The Wear Chief for some reason). Progress dictates that this venue has now been demolished and replaced by a Renault Garage. It wasn’t the bowling that sticks in my mind, although obviously I still have a soft spot for the shoes, but my first encounter with a Jukebox. Boy did we love that Jukebox, and of course my brother Andrew and me weren’t of the age where we wanted to listen to the varied musical styles that were on offer. Quite the opposite; we knew what we liked and we wanted the same records played every week. For me was Benny Hill’s tragic ode to an amorous milkman and his love rival Ted. For Andrew it was Melanie’s ‘Brand New Key’. How the other bowlers must’ve loved us.

The Carpenters – Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft

In the mid 1970s my Dad had a Rover with an 8-track cartridge player and a limited library of cartridges including Diana Ross, Gladys Knight, Olivia Newton John, ABBA, Simon and Garfunkel and, of course, The Carpenters. We knew every track on every one of these albums by heart, including the places where some of the tunes stopped part way through before resuming after a brief pause while the player swopped to another of its 8 ‘tracks’. The only one I can ever remember my Dad buying new was ABBA’s ‘Arrival’, the others simply seemed to have always existed. This is where my love of cheesy, mainstream pop music started and continues to this day. Most remarkable and most memorable of all was The Carpenter’s ‘Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft’, a haunting tale of reaching out to extra-terrestrials, performed by the chirpiest looking brother and sister act ever seen. I’m a lot older and possibly slightly wiser now, at least enough to know that they weren’t quite as chirpy as they appeared.

ABBA – The Name Of The Game

From what now seems like a dangerously young age I used to walk from our house into Sunderland town centre, meet up with friends and spend Saturday looking around the shops of Sunderland. Sometimes I even had money to spend, and of course as everyone knows that was the only way to ensure admittance to Josephs’ toy shop. If you didn’t have any money to spend you simply weren’t allowed to idly browse the wonders on the first floor (it was boring sportswear on the ground floor) regardless of the amount you’d spent last week on a new Subbuteo team or a John Player Special in black and gold for your small oval of Scalextric track. Then, one particular Saturday in 1977, something significant happened. We wandered down windswept Walworth Way (the bleakest environment outside the Arctic Circle) and instead of spending my pocket money on sweets or toys I made a bee-line for that most independent and cutting edge of music retailers, WH Smith and handed over my hard-earned for a copy of ABBA’s ‘The Name Of The Game’. My first single. Orange Epic label, orange paper sleeve. My second single was ‘Knowing Me, Knowing You’, but there are no prizes in this list for second place.

Electric Light Orchestra – Sweet Talkin’ Woman

Now a fully fledged record buyer I found it hard to resist the pull of a record shop. Still do. So when I went to Scout camp at Sandsend on the North Yorkshire coast the following year I had only one thing one my mind – where could I get my hands on vinyl? A planned walk to the bright lights of Whitby turned out to be just the ticket, and it was in a record shop in that most haunted of coastal resorts that I spotted the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, a copy of ‘Sweet Talkin’ Woman’ on translucent purple vinyl. I bought it on the spot, and just like ‘The Name Of The Game’, I still have it. Of course because we were at Scout camp I had to wait almost a week before I got home and finally had the chance to play it on our radiogram.

The Human League – Empire State Human

After sitting my ‘O’ levels and before the results were known (spoiler – I got them all, unlike my ‘A’ levels) I went to stay for a fortnight with my uncle in Nottingham. He had the best record deck I’ve ever seen, a collection of Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin on vinyl (which I hardly touched having been warned off the stuff by many a punk luminary) and an Alfasud, which if not already cool enough, had an oil gauge marked ‘olio’. The real excitement of that Nottingham break lay in doing whatever I wanted and in spending most days in Virgin Records. I’d never seen a Virgin Records store at the time, this was a few years before Richard’s store arrived in Newcastle. It seemed like it was light years away from the familiarity of stuffy old HMV (although in hindsight it was almost exactly the same). At this stage every last penny of my pocket money was being spent on music and I must’ve spent a lot of my limited funds in the Nottingham branch of Virgin. One single I bought XTC’s ‘Towers Of London’, remains a favourite to this day, but the other was the one that turned me on to alternative electronic music forever, and that was ‘Empire State Human’. After this I hunted down everything that Phil, Martyn and the boys had recorded (still got it all!), and then, as obsessive music fans do, I hunted down most of their influences too. Not many people did it in this order, but I did.

Spizzenergi – Soldier soldier

At the height of what was then known as the era of the ‘New Romantics’ we would go downstairs into Heroes in Sunderland and listen to the best vinyl that it was possible for the DJ to lay his hands on. Most notably the more danceable stuff by The B-52’s (Planet Claire, Give Me Back My Man and Dirty Back Road), the glorious, unique, downright grubbiness of Cabaret Voltaire’s Nag Nag Nag and things like ‘Tar’ by Visage that sounded lost on an album but totally at home in a dark pub or club when played loud. But the standout record from this period was Spizzenergi’s ‘Soldier Soldier’ probably because this was the only place (other than on my own record player) that I’ve ever heard it played.

Dave Stewart and Barbara Gaskin – It’s My Party

The first record we ever danced to. It doesn’t get much more significant than that.

Angelo Badalamenti – Theme From Twin Peaks

In the latter part of 1990 and the early part of 1991 we were pretty much broke. With a baby on the way we abandoned our living room and moved into the smaller dining room, because it was easier to heat with the old open fire that was in there. There was room for one settee, the telly and my entire record collection in two cupboards in the alcoves at either side of the fire. In this withdrawn and almost hallucinogenic state we discovered Twin Peaks. If everyone who claims to have watched this series when originally broadcast had actually done so then it would have run to at least seven or eight seasons. It was menacing and spooky and completely inexplicable for the most part, and, as you won’t realise if you’ve only seen the cleaned up remastered versions, apparently shot with a dirty sock draped over the camera lens. We were addicted. I’m not entirely sure I’m looking forward to a new series.

Teenage Fanclub – Don’t Look Back

It has to be said that leaving a job purely on a matter of principle might not always feel like a wise move, but, for a brief moment, before the ‘God, what have I done?’ worry sets in, it feels wonderfully liberating. I wasn’t completely irresponsible mind (I don’t think I ever have been!) because I had another job lined up. And a monumental day, such as the start of a new job or the first drive of a new car, requires monumental music and in the 1990s and on discerning record decks/tape decks/CD players/MP3 players since, monumental music very often means Teenage Fanclub. For this particular day I chose ‘Grand Prix’ without really realising that part way through my first journey to my new job up would pop ‘Don’t Look Back’. Perfect.

The Sleepy Jackson – Morning Bird

While we were waiting for the arrival of our granddaughter I put together a playlist of tunes on an MP3 player for my daughter to listen to while in hospital. Just the usual preparing for a baby mixtape with a mixture of great stuff (‘This Love’ by Craig Armstrong) and relevant stuff (‘Waiting For Baby’ by BMX Bandits) and stuff that just felt like it belonged on there, like ‘Morning Bird’ by The Sleepy Jackson which will always remind me of the time before and after the arrival of Eve.


Please don't forget that you can download and read 'The Great Cassette Experiment' and 'Writing About Music' from Amazon and Google Play Books. 

Thanks for reading!

King Canute, Spotify and The Two Week Summer Holiday mixtape

Until fairly recently, like a typical luddite, I've remained pretty unconvinced by the charms of Spotify.
Skinflint that I am, I dabbled with the reasonably limited free version until about six weeks ago when I finally took the plunge and finally let the tide wash around my ankles like a latter day King Canute. If the sea was streamed digital music and the King was a short bloke with an unhealthy vinyl fetish.
So to celebrate being away from work for a fortnight (I'm joking of course, I love work really) here's my 100 tune Two Week Summer Holiday mixtape.
Hope you like it.

http://open.spotify.com/user/boxofpeppers/playlist/1Nrp1GthlEUFa3J852UtKP

If I can be so bold, why not follow me on Twitter @boxofpeppers or,

You could even hunt out my book on Kindle (It's relatively cheap but not nasty) 'The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy of Cassettes' by Neil Pace

 

Just head to

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FN7XQT2

Thanks for reading!

A day (and a night) at the Opera

I like to think of myself as a reasonably cultured individual. I've read Kafka and Camus (and, on more than one occasion, the first 16 pages of James Joyce's Ulysses). I'm not averse to watching films with subtitles, and I usually avoid newspapers with red tops as if my very life depended on it.

Musically though I'm a bit of a heathen. I've never been to a ballet and the only classical music I know is the kind that turns up in tunes like 'Lady Lynda' by The Beach Boys or the magnificent Pet Shop Boys' modern classic 'Love is a Bourgeois Construct'. Until last weekend I'd never been to 'The Opera' either, so when I was offered the opportunity to do so I jumped at the chance, blissfully unaware that I'd volunteered for a marathon experience. In German.

As the day approached I started to harbour a number of serious concerns. What should I wear? (images of capes and monocles flooded my overactive imagination). Was it obligatory to take a little pair of binoculars? Would I manage to stay awake throughout Opera North's epic performance of Richard Wagner's 'Götterdämmerung ', beginning with an introductory talk at 2.30pm and concluding at 10.15pm and, crucially for an opera performed entirely in German, would I be able to locate the ubiquitous umlaut in Microsoft Word?

The pre-show talk turned out to be hugely informative. I learned that 'Götterdämmerung ' means 'Twilight of the Gods', although when the time came for questions, even the translation of the title was called into question by one audience member. I also learned about diminished fifths and the need to be particularly alert to hear the three steerhorns making a brief appearance during Act two. I did notice that the man sitting next to me fell soundly asleep in the middle of the talk and wondered how we would all fare during the actual performance.

The show itself (is it acceptable to refer to it as a 'show' I wonder) opens with three women, apparently known collectively as 'The Norns' banging on for 20 minutes about a rope that snaps. It must have been a fairly important rope as they all seem to become quite upset about it.

Once we hit Act one the pace picks up and the whole affair really rocks along. Considering it's in German it's fairly easy to follow, with the aid of helpful surtitle translations into English. Surtitles are like subtitles on screens above the stage, apparently.

The Orchestra sound magnificent (six harps!) and, with all the marks of a good film soundtrack, are barely noticeable for much of the time. Even though it doesn't particularly sound like it, I mean that as a huge compliment. The whole opera singing bit was impressive too. I can never see it replacing Teenage Fanclub in my musical affections, but in the context of an opera the opera singing was pretty much perfect.   First and foremeost this particular opera was an impressively elaborate way to tell a wonderfully engrossing tale. If you're unfamiliar with the story contained in Götterdämmerung it goes something like this (spoiler alert!). A boy, Siegfried, gives a girl, inevitably glorying in the name of Brunnhilde, a magic ring that he acquired when he slew a dragon. The boy, encouraged by the girl, embarks on a quest but is tricked into drinking a potion of forgetfulness by two half-brothers so that their sister can marry the boy and one of the half-brothers can marry the girl. The boy then disguises himself as one of the half-brothers using a magic helmet so that Brunnhilde will marry the half-brother and Siegfried will marry the half-brothers' sister. Actually I haven't been entirely clear there because the half-brothers' sister is actually only a sister to one of the half-brothers and a half-sister to the other one.

Did I mention that Brunnhilde is a Valkyrie?

Act two opens with the extremely loud and prolonged rustling of a carrier bag. Presumably this is a later addition not present in the original performance from 1876. And so continues a tragic tale of love, disguise, betrayal and revenge that ultimately results in the demise of the entire aforementioned plus Brunnhilde's winged horse, Grane, and, eventually, all of the gods, hence the title.

It may sound like a cliché, but the hours did genuinely roll by and I really was in awe at the level of respect shown by an attentive and knowledgeable audience. Needless to say, nobody felt the unfathomable urge to sing along and not a single person was tempted to film one single little part of the performance on their mobile phone.

I came away feeling just a little bit more cultured, but more importantly privileged to have spent a few hours in the presence of supremely talented musicians and performers, and a wonderful, polite, respectful audience.


Article originally published on the NE:MM website and reproduced here with permission.


If you'd like to you can now buy my book for your Kindle - The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy Of Cassettes

Just head to

 http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FN7XQT2

Thanks for reading!

The Music Room - Twerking my way back to you (or 'Sex and the CD')

Sex and music have been splashed all over the news recently. From the implausibly named Robin Thicke with his unsavoury lyrics and scantily clad friends to someone who used to be teen heroine Hannah Montana brazenly 'Twerking' with implausibly named Robin at the MTV awards. At this point, for readers over the age of 22 I'd better explain that 'Twerking' is defined in the indispensable Urban Dictionary as, 'basically a slutty dance'. In fact the delightfully named triple album 'Twerk It' is currently riding high in the UK hit parade. It features the aforementioned Robin Thicke and Miley Cyrus and, it probably goes without saying, Little Mix. 60 tunes, old and new, tailor made for twerking to.

This preponderance of sex and music made me (and Sinead O'Connor and Annie Lennox) wonder whether it’s a new phenomenon. Is music any more sexually explicit now than it was when we were all knee-high to grasshoppers?

'Absolutely not' I hear most of you shout. Sex and music have been inextricably linked ever since Adam realised that being in a band was the fastest way to get into Eve's fig leaf. Of course it was a while before he found any bandmates, and when he eventually did they were brothers, and everyone knows what happens when you have brothers in a band.

If you don't believe that sex and music have been inextricably linked since the very dawn of time then here’s the proof. 22 years ago the UK number one single was ‘I Wanna Sex You Up’. And what do you think Marvin, to whom Robin has been implausibly linked, was singing about on ‘Let's Get it on’? Do you have any idea what Bill Haley, and Big Joe Turner before him, was referring to when singing, 59 years ago, about a one-eyed cat in ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll’?

And what about Tommy McClennan’s 72-year old blues (and carpentry) classic ‘Cross Cut Saw Blues’, which opens with the immortal lines;

‘I’m a crosscut saw, drag me ‘cross your log,

I’m a crosscut saw, drag me ‘cross you log,

Babe I’ll cut your wood so easy,

You can’t help say “hot dog”’!

There have admittedly been recent subtle changes, however. Changes that were set in motion by Madonna and carried forward by Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. Changes that resulted in the more explicit becoming more mainstream. I’m also thinking at this point of Britney Spears video for ‘Toxic’. As I often do.

Ultimately though, popular music is all about rebellion, about shocking adults. In many ways that’s the whole point of it. Consider Little Richard’s lyrics and sexual ambiguity. Or maybe Elvis Presley’s hips. Or how about the ‘in your face’ attitude towards drug taking that pervaded the late 1960s (and the club culture of the late 1980s). Or possibly the long hair and make-up so beloved of the finest proponents of glam rock. Or David Bowie, not sure if he’s a boy or a girl. Even the anti-establishment stance and lack of accepted musical talent of Punk, so shocking that ‘God Save The Queen’ wasn’t allowed to reach the top of the charts.

Hopefully you’re starting to get the picture now. Miley and Robin’s antics are designed, and even literally choreographed to shock. So if you feel outraged by their attention-seeking behaviour, then their plans have well and truly worked.

Originally published in the very wonderful NE:MM magazine
Blog - nemmonline.blogspot.co.uk
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/nemmmusic
Twitter - @NEMusicMonthly

Still available for Kindle - 'The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy Of Cassettes', the perfect Christmas gift (typed without a hint of irony).

Just head to http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FN7XQT2

The Music Room - of Montreal 'Lousy with Sylvianbriar' review

We all know that there are musicians out there, some of them extremely and, let’s be honest, inexplicably successful, who are happy to trot out barely differing versions of the very same mundane albums over and over again. At the opposite end of the spectrum there are the sometimes less commercially successful artists who like to take a risk, to go out on a limb even, to constantly entice and sometimes even challenge the boundaries of music. of Montreal’s founder and frontman Kevin Barnes has pitched his very brightly coloured tent firmly in this second camp. Kevin recently recalled the very deliberate process of stripping back the layers to come up with their swiftly written and briskly recorded new album, Lousy With Sylvianbriar.

Kevin told me that he went to San Francisco around a month before he was due to start recording, where he spent three weeks writing most of the material before returning to his home studio in Athens, Georgia. There he gathered together an exciting group of new musicians, some of whom he’d never even met before, and recorded the album in just two weeks to an analogue 24-track tape machine. “It all happened in this really organic way’ Kevin explained, ‘it could have been a disaster but it worked out really well.”

“The inspiration was definitely bands from the late sixties and early seventies” Kevin continued, before quoting a list of the albums that acted both as an inspiration for the back to basics recording process and the overall theme. If I tell you that this list included Bring it All Back Home, Blonde on Blonde and John Wesley Harding by Bob Dylan, American Beauty and Workingman’s Dead by Grateful Dead, Beggar’s Banquet and Let it Bleed by The Rolling Stones and the solo recordings of Gram Parsons then you’ll get a very good idea of the tradition in whose footsteps this album follows.

“I like the fact that you can’t hide behind anything with analogue recording” Kevin continued,”you can feel the energy of the people in the room. What appeals to me is the immediacy, you have to make quick decisions that you have to live with.”

“So, with influences like that”, you’re asking yourselves, “is it any good?”

If you’ve never heard of Montreal before then this is a great place to start. And if you have heard them before then this is every bit as good as, but very different to, their considerable previous body of work.

To Kevin’s credit it is certainly an album that succeeds in capturing the immediacy of the recording process. The influences of Dylan, The Stones and Gram Parsons inform but don’t overshadow any of the tunes here. Another of Kevin’s musical heroes, David Bowie is also strongly felt and there are a number of tracks here of which David himself would be extremely proud.

I’ve lived with this album for a few weeks now and none of its charms are wearing off. My favourite track during week one was ‘Belle Glade Missionaries’, which has such a nagging, lolloping hook that it’s difficult not to be totally drawn to it. Week two saw the rise of ‘Raindrop in my skull’ a beautiful, largely acoustic number on which Kevin shares vocal duties with Rebecca Cash to devastatingly tuneful effect. Week three was the week when ‘Obsidian Currents’ stepped forward to volunteer for the ‘top tune’ slot. It’s the last of these three that will undoubtedly be regarded as Lousy With Sylvianbriar’s finest tune once the dust finally settles.

Excitingly, for me at least if no-one else, the album is released not only on the usual dull CD and mp3 formats, but also in limited numbers on 180 gram sea glass green vinyl and, wait for it…, cassette tape.

When the end of year ‘best of’ lists are written I would love to think that Lousy with Sylvianbriar will feature very prominently in many of them. It’ll certainly be riding very high in mine.

Originally published in the very wonderful NE:MM magazine
Blog - nemmonline.blogspot.co.uk
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/nemmmusic
Twitter - @NEMusicMonthly

Don't forget you can get yourself a copy of the only mildly amusing 'The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy of Cassettes' on your Kindle.

The Joy Of Cassettes - available now on Kindle

Available now for your Kindle - The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy Of Cassettes

Just head to http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FN7XQT2

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you only listened to cassettes for six months? I thought not. But I can tell you what happened when I did.

On day 1 I discovered that not all DJs go to heaven.

On day 9 I visited the very soon to be defunct HMV store in Durham and resisted the temptation to buy a CD.

I laid a 29 year old grudge to rest on day 18.

On day 23 I decided on the colour for my (proposed) music room.

Following the choice of a new Pope I made a musical confession on day 29.

By day 37 I was pondering life as a bit of a hellraiser.

On day 47 I mulled over the similarity of Bryan Ferry's moustache and the one sported by Private Walker in Dad's Army.

Day 56 saw me nailing my colours to the mast of the greatest hip-hop album ever made (and by day 81 I'd changed my mind).

Day 64 found me thinking of Edie Brickell's bra.

On a trip to South Bank, Cleveland (UK not USA) on day 74 I was pleasantly surprised by an album I'd been dreading.

On day 88 I spent some quality time with David Bowie's second best album and on day 93 I spent some less than quality time with one of his poorest.

Day 95 introduced the concept of the game-changing album in the company of a group of very talented Germans.

My favourite album of all time showed up on day 100.

My cherished 1985 Mini Mayfair returned to the road on day 105 and ushered in a short spell of 1980s classics by way of celebration, including the opportunity to ponder some very clunky lyrics indeed on day 107.

Al Gore's wife (the wonderfully named Tipper) popped up on day 122 and on day 125 I considered the potential perils of handing over creative control of your album to two of the world's most respected producers only to see the whole shooting match go totally tits up.

Finally on day 130 the entire experiment shuddered to its final destination just like it started, with a brilliant six track electronic classic from the late 1970s.

Oh, and did I mention that I spent a very enjoyable day in the company of a lesbian Tupperware seller?

The music room - Vinyl vs Cassette vs CD vs MP3

Recently I bought a new album. That’s not really unusual, but the next bit is. I bought it on vinyl. For the first time in almost 30 years I bought a new vinyl LP. It was Love your Dum and Mad by Whitburn’s finest, Nadine Shah, if you’re wondering.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve bought loads of ‘mint-unplayed’ LPs since CDs threatened to take over the world (I wonder how that plan’s going), but they’re not really new. An LP is only really new if you’re the first person to own it. Newness isn’t a question of condition, it’s a question of ownership.

Most ‘advances’ in musical formats have been almost entirely about miniaturisation, to the extent that mp3s are completely invisible to the naked eye and the collection that used to fill your spare room now fills a device that’s not much bigger than a postage stamp. Unfortunately as collections have become physically smaller they’ve also become less significant. No longer do you have to choose in advance the music that you think you’ll need to get you through your day, because you’re carrying your whole collection with you.

I’ve also been experimenting recently with listening to lots of music on cassette. It’s a part of my collection that had been neglected for years. Cassettes are under-rated (even sneered at by some) as a musical format, but they were the first truly successful attempt to bring portable music to the masses and therefore the first step on a journey that led to mp3 players. Cassettes now seem like they were made for simpler, slower times and in many ways they were. There was no automatic jumping to a specific track, if you wanted to listen to ‘Neuköln’ on David Bowie’s Heroes then you’d have to go on a journey, because it’s tucked away at track four on side two and on a cassette that takes some finding.

Call me old-fashioned but I don’t think mp3 is a real music format. Real music formats can be bought and sold at car boot sales, they can be carried under your arm, they can be damaged by exposing them to dust or moisture or sunlight. Real music formats take up room, they need to be cared for and sorted. They can be stacked in piles and put on shelves. They can be sniffed. Mp3s have no smell.

I find CDs a little bit difficult to love too, even though I’ve got thousands of them. They never really came through on their promise of indestructibility for one thing, and when they’re badly scratched they don’t crackle warmly like vinyl does – they skip in a way that threatens to raise blood pressure when crackling old vinyl has absolutely the opposite effect. CDs are too clinical. They have no warmth. They don’t ‘sigh’ when you press the play button. They’re too convenient. In 100 years they’ll be remembered only as the 25-year halfway house between analogue music and music that doesn't really physically exist. That’s not much of a legacy.

So although it’s the music rather than the method of transportation that’s ultimately important it’s vinyl’s trumpet that gets my ‘toot’. If you’re still unconvinced I’ll leave you with one final parting shot. The 7” vinyl single is popular music in its purest form.


Originally published in the very wonderful NE:MM magazine

And available now for your Kindle - The Great Cassette Experiment - The Joy Of Cassettes

Just head to http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FN7XQT2