A storyteller, a lover, a man of funk. Add in some good old fashioned rock ‘n’ roll , plus a little music hall camp. We should all aspire to this. An amazing debut of an album. It’s the sound of an artist that has so much to say and express, and isn’t afraid to hide his influences. We need more innuendo in songs, always sang in a playful manner, without ever resorting to shock tactics for the sake of it. What a diamond.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

I’ve picked up the bass again. Jase the Bass is a Bandcamp account waiting to happen, Comrades. There was no particular reason, apart from a spare half hour, and an urgent need of a distraction from work. I think I remember how to do this.

A brief tuning up - why do guitars become untuned? - and then I was away. Woh! Where to start? I know, how about Marley’s Jamming? I’ve always loved that Aston Barrett pulsating bass. Right from the opening chords, the bass anchors the whole track.

A brief online shifty for the bass line, and BINGO! Yeah, it’s cheating for sure. I’m playing bass by numbers. Move your finger here; play this string. Now repeat. There’s an awful lot of repetition when it comes to bass playing. Jamming has three parts, and that’s pretty much it.

I’ve two thirds of it nailed. I’m, ahem, jamming along with Bob. It think it’s best to keep it in the bedroom and offline for now.

English isn’t his first language, right? The instrumentals work best. It’s a real curiosity of an album. The intention was never to make an outstanding record. Experimentation was heavy on the agenda. As ever with these types of projects, some hit the spot, others fall very wide of the mark. Hit and miss, pick and mix. Enjoyable, but not a must listen.

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A fourth drop from the new Sleaford fucking Mods album, The Demise of Planet X. Here we have No Touch, a killer collab with Sue Tompkins from Life Without Buildings. I’d forgotten all about the early 2000 Scottish indie band, tbh. Sleaford fucking Mods always choose the best artists to work with. There’s almost a pop feel to No Touch with Tompkins adding a little cheer to the usual rantings. The video was filmed in Dartford, apparently. It could be any town outside the M25. The boarded up shops are a dead giveaway. I’m creaming it ahead of the album in the new year.

Whinny.

⭐

There’s an awful lot going on here: you can’t ignore Lydon’s cry for help - but even an instrumental version of this album would rate highly. Levene’s guitar is like a dental drill; Wobble’s bass sends you dizzy. Even the drums sound unlike what you would expect. There’s something of a rock god feel to them, but somehow they still slot into the jigsaw. It’s a fucked up picture, for sure. But that’s how I like my music.

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I had to give this a second listen. I admit to allowing it to wash over me first time round - which is quite an achievement for a Pogues album. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood. And you need to be in the mood for a Pogues album. This isn’t easy listening. There’s much more depth than I was expecting. The Eastern influences add more light to the simple piss up Pogues' persona. I had to skip THAT song, even in deep December. Sure, it’s magical. But you can only take so much of it, especially so at this time of the year.

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I know Alice Cooper is cool, and I’m supposed to like Alice Cooper. But it’s still US rock shite. I haven’t spent the best part of four decades forming my finely tuned musical prejudices to give into this posturing.

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Only Nick Cave could get away with an album all about murdering women - although I doubt if he would walk away unscathed in 2025. The Kylie duet gets all the headlines. But it’s the PJ Harvey collab that works best for me. Polly brings out the best baritone in Smiling Nick.

⭐ ⭐

I wanted to really like this. I think it’s the idea of really liking it, than actually hearing anything of interest. In the end it was all a load of hippy nonsense, as expected. I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe) was a rare highlight.

⭐ ⭐