It should have come as no surprise to anyone that when Squeeze recently went into the Radio 2 Piano Lounge to play the tried and tested format - a three song set comprising two originals and a cover - that they should have chosen a Beatle related number; Glenn Tilbrook & Chris Difford have carried the surrogate Lennon & McCartney tag around with them for well over forty years; so when they saddled up to play a Macca penned power pop classic all bets were off. Junior's Farm is a diamond in the rough. At the back end of 1974 McCartney had just recruited Jimmy McCulloch on lead guitar who would go on to play on the Venus & Mars album followed by the mammoth Wings Over America tour and accompanying triple live album. This sounds like it was a contender for V&M but Macca put it out as a single instead. And what a single. If this doesn't get your pulse racing then you're probably dead.
I've just finished watching Mackenzie Crook's fabulous new TV drama Small Prophets. It'll come as no surprise that the man who brought you Detectorists has written and producd smething so magical (literally) and so endearing that you know people will still be talking about the show in 10, 20, 50 years time - and beyond. It's up on the iPlayer now; you really should give it a spin. You'll kick yourself if you don't. Pearce Quigley & Michael Palin will probably kick you as well; their performances are both off the charts.
Small Prophets (BBC) - official trailer (2026)
I've got a feeling you're gonna like the soundtrack too. The main theme is by Cinder Well - 'The Wiseman's Song' will probably become a heartbreaking classic (not my words, but those of Mackenzie Crook). And with his current run of form I certainly wouldn't bet against him.
Danebury Metal Detecting Club; a.k.a. the DMDC. If you're a fan of the cult TV series Detectorists you'll know what I'm referring to. But if you've yet to fall under the spell of this delightful BBC comedy show starring Mackenzie Crook and Toby Jones then why not break your duck and watch it on the iPlayer? Each episode lasts just 30 minutes and they only made three series. Go on, what have you go to lose?
Anyway, the reason I mention this fictional ragtag group of wannabe archaeologists is quite simple: I was in Danebury this week just gone. Or Framlingham, to be precise. Much of the filming was shot in the small but perfectly formed Suffolk town so I couldn't resist slipping anchor from our base in Southwold for a quick peek at some of the locations. (Yes, this programme really has got under my skin since it was first broadcast in 2014.) However, imagine my horror when I learned that they'd knocked down the Scout Hut/Community Hall where the DMDC used to meet up; though to be fair, they have built a shiny new one in its place.
However Lance's flat round the corner was still there, though no sign of his beloved yellow 1977 TR7. A quick shuftie on the web and I can see the one bedroom flat on Double Stret recently sold for £200,000; the car a mere £3,500. Bargain.
I took a few more snaps around the town (and also in Southwold) but this site was never meant to be a 'look at my holiday pics' kinda place. I may, though, post a couple on BlueSky or even Instagram (I met The Swede on Saturday afternoon and he pleaded with me to activate my Insta account after having opened it some ten years ago and then proceeded to post precisely nothing.)
Wreckless Eric turns 70 this year. (I know, even as I type those six words I can't quite believe it myself). Ahead of his imminent move back to the UK (he's had his fill of New York County), Eric's playing a few gigs over here. And if, like me, you've been following Eric's diaries, fanzines, blogs & radio shows over the years you can't not like him. What you see is (nearly) what you get. Although he plays the underdog to a tee, don't be fooled; beneath that faux bumbling persona lies a talent so rich (he's written, recorded, produced and played on more records than Paul McCartney's had hot dinners), musical historians in the future will spend the rest of time just cataloguing his work.
A personalised note from Eric, 2004
It was fitting then that in October last year he was invited by Jools Holland to revisit the song that kickstarted it all in 1977. (Back when the idea of Wreckless Eric turning 30 would have been seen as far fetched as Star Wars.)
Wreckless Eric (with Jools Holland) - Whole Wide World - (2023)
Back in January 2022 some bright spark at the BBC began cajoling bands and artists into their Maida Vale studios to perform a couple of their own songs + a hand-picked cover and, with the help of the BBC Concert Orchestra, create more classical, and generally less frenetic, versions than the originals Radio 2 listeners are used to hearing. Playing the Piano Room has now become something of a badge of honour for yer Simply Reds and yer Pinks and anyone else who fits their daytime demographic. I blame Ken Bruce.
With the station's flagship mid-morning show now anchored by Vernon Kay, the mercurial northerner invited Def Leppard in a couple of weeks ago to wheel the grand piano out and look earnestly down the lens of the BBC's cameras and bring some gravitas to a tune more usually heard in lap dancing clubs*.
Def Leppard (feat. Emm Gryner) - Pour Some Sugar on Me (2023)
I can honestly say that from the moment Doctor Who first made its way into the Medd family's living room on a Saturday evening I was genuinely excited as fuck and, at the same time, scared shitless. Daleks. Cibermen. Silurians. And as if those three weren't enough to mess with a young boy's head I also had this lot to contend with: shop mannequins...
The Autons Activate (1974)
Just finding this two minute clip and posting it to the blog has brought back so many childhood nightmares. Is it any wonder I went prematurely grey?
...
I'm not sure if Alan Parsons was a big fan of our favourite timelord. But judging by the video below (despite knowing the song for nearly 40 years, I only discovered the accompanying film earlier this evening), I'm guessing he too was taken with those lifelike monsters hiding in plain sight in our town centre shop windows up and down the land.
On Sunday evenings in 1972 any self respecting teenager with access to a radio and a rudimentary tape recorder could be found in their bedroom with their fingers poised over the play and record buttons as they constructed their very own playlists. Between 4pm and 6pm the weekly chart rundown was presided over by Radio 1 jock Tom Browne. All the platters that mattered got an airing; well, nearly all. For some reason the Beeb had a problem with Judge Dread. Tom would skim over the fact that Big Six (and later Big Seven) was sitting at #8 in the charts - but steadfastly refused to play it. What was going on? What could it be that prevented it from being played on the airwaves? And who was buying it if nobody could hear it? It would be a number of years later till I got to hear it in full. And what great tunes they were (Six andSeven). My 11 year old self would have loved 'em, nothing's so sure.
I don't know if Dread, real name Alexander Minto Hughes (1945-1998), lost too much sleep over his blanket ban by the corporation - probably not (it didn't seem to hinder sales). Everyone loves an anti-hero and in 1972 Judge Dread certainly fitted the bill.
Life. What's it all about? Search me. Likewise death. I listened to Start the Week this morning; Tom Sutcliffe was introducing (I can't listen when that clown Andrew Marr does it) and it was all about dying. A rather melancholic start to the day you would have thought and yes, to a point, it was. Only it was debated so humanely and so compassionately I'd defy anyone who heard the broadcast not to have had a smile on their face whilst listening. Good radio does that.
To paraphrase my talented writer friend Alyson, but this is a music blog so play us a bloody tune, Meddy. Well, today's selection is probably a song that many Paul McCartney fans will want to have played at their funerals; it may well be played at the man himself's service. I have a feeling it will soundtrack a myriad of montages from the ex-Beatle's life when the inevitable day arrives. A beautiful song that McCartney sings in a register he's totally at ease with these days. And lyrics to die for. Quite literally.
Paul McCartney - The End of the End (2007)
On a lighter note, I ordered my McCartney First Day Cover stamps today. I shall look forward greatly to framing and displaying them.
...
At the end of the end
It's the start of a journey
To a much better place
And this wasn't bad
So a much better place
Would have to be special
No need to be sad
On the day that I die I'd like jokes to be told
And stories of old to be rolled out like carpets
That children have played on
And laid on while listening to stories of old
At the end of the end
It's the start of a journey
To a much better place
And a much better place
Would have to be special
No reason to cry
On the day that I die I'd like bells to be rung
And songs that were sung to be hung out like blankets
That lovers have played on
And laid on while listening to songs that were sung
I split my Saturday evening listening between BBC Radio London's perpetually excited Gary Crowley and BBC Radio Nottingham's Dean Jackson (more becalmed than GC but still excited on the inside - celebrating 30 years of his excellent Saturday show 'The Beat'). But I can't for the life of me remember which one of them played this next tune I'm featuring. It's by Andy Bell (yes, I know there's two; it's the Ride and Oasis one, not the Erasure one).
Unlike his previous employer, Noel Gallagher, who was forever channelling Beatles tunes overlaid with Marc Bolan riffs, Bell appears to be picking up where the Stone Roses left off and is resurrecting a sound that many listeners will remember as part of the Madchester/Baggy scene; whilst others (with younger ears) will probably tell you it's a sound that never went away.
Either way, here's his new single. It skips along at quite a pace and I think it's worth four minutes of your time. Can't say fairer than that now can I?
I've spoken to so many lads of my age over the years who remember watching this the night it went out on the Old Grey Whistle Test; like a rite of passage. Led Zeppelin, unsurprisingly, weren't available. And as no oven ready promo film of them playing Trampled Underfoot existed, it was left to the boffins at the BBC to come up with something. Anything. They didn't disappoint.
Anyone familiar with the Archers will be aware that Jill’s new gentleman caller, Leonard (played by Paul Copley - better known to younger listeners on Radio 4 as Tom Wrigglesworth’s dad*), can’t paint trees for toffee. Not even if his life depended on it; he recently passed off a picture he acquired from a gallery as one of his own. Charlatan.
These are for you Lenny.
*As opposed to older Radio 4 listeners who will remember him as Mr. Long in King St. Junior which ran from 1985-1998.
Anyone who remembers Chris Morris' quite brilliant Blue Jam that went out on Radio 1(1997-99) in the wee small hours will, I guess, in their minds, still link the dark downbeat comedy sketches with the equally downbeat ambient grooves that in the late 90s made for such perfect post-party bedfellows.
If you listened to this at three in the morning coming down from whatever sort of night you were coming down from then it all made perfect sense; not that it doesn't now. In fact it probably chimes more now than it ever did. Fucking Noddy?
Driving Aquaplaning back from Manchester this evening, the rain was coming down sideways - as it had been since about 9 o'clock this morning. It truly was like the End of Days.
Craig Charles agreed to ride shotgun. He's the perfect passenger - playing as he did some spectacularly good choons. Like this:
It's from his new album Part Time Millionaire. I think it comes out next week. I want a copy. Now. It will be my Album of 2019; you just see if it isn't.
Boxing Day. A day to relax. A day to do precisely nothing; the square root of nothing, no less. There's even a formula for this prolonged bout of inactivity: e=√FA That said, I am reading a rather splendid book at the moment, whilst simultaneously demolishing nearly half a tin of Quality Street. Oh, and I've hung a few pictures this afternoon that have been leaning against walls for far too long. And I'm currently compiling a couple of playlists. Downtempo playlists, if you will; nothing too strenuous, nothing too upbeat. Not today. Not on Boxing Day.
Paul Weller bookends the first one with two different versions of My Ever Changing Moods - one of my fave Weller songs from his Style Council days. He did a rather tasty piano version 30+ years ago and then, last year I think, included it in a specially recorded BBC session - a version reflecting his now slightly reduced vocal range (Macca, a hero of Weller, does something very similar when he sings Beatles songs these days).
Everywhere I turn people are having babies, and making babies. And not just real people - Pip Archer has just driven (yet) another nail in her dad's coffin by announcing she's pregnant with Toby Fairbrother's seed. Good on her, that's what I say. The villain of the piece (Ambridge's bad boy and very own gin distiller) will probably pay maintenance by way of a few bottles of Scruff; mother's ruin indeed.
But back to people who really do exist, and not just in a fictitious village south by south-west of Birmingham. Our friends Liam & Suzie, Jim & Debs, and Ross & Jenny are all counting down to when they go from being two alone to three together. Our love and best wishes go out to all of them. And to Pip & Toby too, what the hell.
When Tony James (pictured above left), formerly of Generation X and Sigue Sigue Sputnik introduced himself on last week's University Challenge (a Christmas themed version featuring distinguished alumni) he said that he read Mathematics in the seventies at Brunel University, and the NME. Judging by his woeful performance (and that of his fellow postgraduates it has to be said) I think they must all have been sagging off and reading the NME in the pub round the corner.
Generation X - reading the dots
It's quite fitting that they only scored 45 (they were absolutely mullered by Reading) - Tony James being no stranger to writing the odd hit single.
I also recently discovered this fabulous interview he did on Soho Radio a couple of years back with Gary Crowley (I'm sorry, Jeremy Paxman and Gary Crowley in the same piece). James talks candidly about punk, the Pistols, Malcolm McLaren, Bernie Rhodes, Mick Jones and, of course, his songwriting partner in crime Billy Idol.
(Fast Fwd to 50:10 for the interview)
And how refreshing to hear Wild Dub on the radio. Gen X, along with many other first generation punk and new wave bands, were massively influenced by reggae. For those of you who don't know it, it's on the B side to Wild Youth (and for some inexplicable reason turned up on the US pressing of their first album) and must be played at full tilt. Until your chest hurts. A heavy heavy dub, punk rockers.
Sorry, I couldn't help myself: Susan Stranks and a real magpie
It won't have escaped your notice that Detectorists is back. TV archeologists will I'm sure, in years to come, if they're not already, be citing Mackenzie Crook's small screen masterpiece as, probably, the finest comedy drama of the 21st. century; amongst the ringpulls and scaffold clips that lie beneath the surface of the Radio Times, Detectorists is a bona fide treasure. The goldest of gold coins. The buried city. The Holy Grail.
And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Episode 1 ended with this. I won't set it up for you - you'll get it; please just watch (and listen). And fall in love with it like I did.
That's right, 'Magpie' by the Unthanks. Has a soundtrack ever fitted a television programme so perfectly before? I don't think so.
Here are the fabulous Unthank sisters on Later, playing the full extended version.
Billy Connolly will be 75 in November. As part of his upcoming birthday celebrations, three acclaimed Scottish artists were commissioned to capture the Big Yin's likeness and present Billy with their unique portraits.
Jack Vettriano
BBC Scotland have made a beautiful and touching programme recording Billy's return to his native Glasgow where, through a series of his memories, archive footage and present day travelogue, Glasgow and Billy were shown very much in the here and now. Although both city and comedian have improved with age, Connolly now suffers with Parkinson's: his mind is still as sharp as a tack, but these days, during his (still impeccable) stand up shows, his once animated self is now similar to that of a 78 record playing at 33.
John Byrne
And the love the man generates, not just from the artists - John Byrne, Jack Vettriano and Rachel MacLean - but his audiences and the Glaswegians on the streets, is nothing short of discipleship. This sort of adoration is usually only afforded to the recently deceased.
Rachel MacLean
Finally, after Billy was given his works of art, there was still one more birthday surprise in store.
Unbeknownst to BC each of the portraits had been blown up to 50 feet high and granted mural status in three locations in the city.
Watch the programme yourself to see the great man's reaction - it's up on the iPlayer until 4 September. You'll be glad you did, believe me.
For all its faults, and it has many, believe me (dodgy Birmingham accents, PJ Harvey all over the soundtrack, ropey dialogue), Peaky Blinders is actually getting under my skin - imagine Deadwood set in the West Midlands. I never thought I'd get past Season 1 Episode 1, but now, thanks to those good people at Netflix, I'm at the point of no return: S2:E4. If they hadn't have decamped to Camden Town and brought Tom Hardy in I think I would have kicked it into the long grass long ago.
But Christ, how hard can it be to do a Brummie accent? Nearly all the cast must think Birmingham is on the Wirral. Then again, Timothy Spall did set the bar quite high in Auf Wiedersehen Pet. And Vic and Bob.
Anyway, it skips along at quite a pace and if you don't mind a script liberally carpet-bombed with 'f*cks' then give it a go. Nick Cave sings the theme tune.
The irrepressible Johnny Vaughan has been playing the sh*t out of Kasabian's latest single God Bless This Acid House. But every time it comes charging out of the speakers, all I can hear is Juke Box Jive by the Rubettes. Seriously. I really think the next time the jesters from Leicester play it on whatever TV show passes for Top of the Pops these days, they should all sport matching white berets; you never know, if could catch on. Well, maybe not in Leicester. As infectious 45s go, it's almost up there with a cracking little debut single Dean Jackson on BBC Radio Nottingham has had on constant rotation all Summer. 24 Hours a Day by the Shades is a three minute montage of every pop record ever released, from (and including) Rock Around the Clock. Again, when I hear it I can pick out so many nods and winks to classic singles and artists of yore, not least the ghost of Billy Haley whose DNA is still trapped in its rock and roll amber. And it's driving me insane. See what you think:
