Vivian Stanshall was one of those great British eccentrics. I came across him in my teens on John Peel’s radio show, where he regularly narrated extracts from his satirical saga Sir Henry At Rawlinson End.

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There are many things I love about Sault, not least their initial anonymity, their eclecticism, and their refusal to play by the marketing-led rules of the music biz.

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Here’s a trio of songs for Christmas – one for opening the presents, another for after dinner at the end of the day, and one for Boxing Day.

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There’s a compelling argument that we’ve had enough Christmas songs to last a lifetime and don’t need any more. But this one has that same seasonal sense of sadness and nostalgia as Fairytale Of New York.

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Bass lines don’t come much funkier than this minimalist drum-and-bass obscurity by a short-lived mid-’70s band called Spaghetti Head.

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This is utterly heartbreaking. Once heard, never forgotten: Candi Staton’s first-hand memory of one of the worst racist terror incidents in US history, in which four little girls lost their lives.

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Here’s a sweet slice of Northern Soul to warm the cockles of the heart on the longest night of the year. Listen carefully and you can hear the guitar of future Fleetwood Mac member Bob Welch.

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Here’s a slice of French hip-hop from the soundtrack of the Marseille-set cop drama Blood Coast (aka Pax Masillia) by a member of the city’s best known rap crew IAM.

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Gotta confess it took me a long while to take Olivia Rodrigo seriously. First there was her background as a Disney princess in High School Musical. Then there was her phenomenal pop success.

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Brian Auger is a name that rings a distant bell to me but ought to ring a lot louder. He’s a bit of a zelig, turning up with his Hammond organ in the unlikeliest places ever since the ’60s. Not just his organ either.

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