You’ve got to feel sorry for Fred Neil. The obscure Canadian folkie recorded definitive versions of three great songs that went on to become standards – and all three were made famous in better versions by three other artists.

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Last night I went to see these guys, Dead Writers, at a goth-filled Camden pub with the apt name The Black Heart, on my way back from cricket at Lord’s. And I had a very good time.

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Last night I went to see Mick Harvey of the Bad Seeds unveil his latest collaboration – a collection of duets with Amanda Acevedo at the beautiful church of St John of Bethnal Green.

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There was no escaping this song in the summer of ’77, though I was far more interested in the Pistols and the Clash than chart-topping disco tunes.

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You don’t often come across new sounds. And it’s even rarer to find a completely new genre of music. This one, which I suppose is a modern variant on “chill-out” music, is apparently called “barber beats.”

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Last night I went to see Sarabeth Tucek at The Lexington. And the song I most wanted to hear was this autobiographical number about her childhood.

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Maybe I’ve got a bit soppy because I’m feeling a bit sad and fragile but Mereba’s haunting electro-ballad hits me right there. Especially its lyrics.

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Here we are on the hottest day of the year and I’m reflecting on the hottest gigs I’ve ever attended. One of them, on a night like this, was by Nas at the 100 Club.

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I don’t know how I forgot this one when I was trawling through the songs of my childhood. It wasn’t a big hit but back in 1974 it seemed to be everywhere.

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Alarming news – in my old age I may be starting to like jazz. Yes, I’m afraid a lifetime of jazzophobia may be under threat after I heard this dude, Yussef Dayes yesterday. On a sunny day on my car radio, his music blew my mind.

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