It’s not just the opening seconds of Tutti Frutti that make you smile - it’s the opening few tenths of a second.

BOOM!

You’re straight in, knowing that there’s quite a ride ahead.

It’s almost impossible to shock and surprise musically these days. Everything seems to have been exhausted. There’s no more boundaries to push.

It’s quite remarkable that an album from 1957 can still give you a whack round the head and leave you with optimism.

This is just bloody great from start to finish. There’s no concealed cleverness, no nod and wink here and there. Just a FULL ON assault as it confronts you with the rhythm and energy.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

To Lion Vibes on Thursday evening. For Selecter [erm] Thursday!

If it’s the first Thursday of the month, then it must mean that the Brixton Village space has another open deck session. It’s for anyone who wants their fifteen minutes of reggae love and appreciation.

The basic premise is that you book in a slot ahead of the session, and are then allocated fifteen minutes to play some of your fave tunes.

There’s no rules about which reggae style is acceptable. This is not a muso noodling session for people who really should listen to music alone at home.

It’s almost impossible not to SMILE when pretty much any reggae genre is blasted out of the Lion Vibes PA in a small space of appreciative people.

I made my way down Stockwell Road. Pendulum were playing at The Academy.

Oh - interesting, I thought. I paused for a few seconds and thought of cutting a deal with a tout.

Magnificent though Pendulum are, I would much rather prefer an intimate music experience up close.

Selecter Thursday it is then.

The room was already rammed when I arrived. I lurked a little outside the front of the shop for a few tracks, waiting for others to leave and free up some space.

Even outside I could feel the bass trembling me from foot to toe. I’ll have a bit of that - especially on a school night.

Soon I was inside. The Sisters of Reggae were on the decks. Rocksteady got the crowd dancing.

A change of Selecter and soon we were deep into roots territory. Smiles were everywhere in this most informal and accepting of environments. Love only please, YEAH.

Shout out to Ben and all at Lion Vibes who also organised a collection on the night for the Caribbean Disaster Appeal. People were generous in donating on what is an otherwise free night.

It’s quite a leap in trust to open up your shop once a month and allow a customer takeover. It’s helped to build Lion Vibes into something much more than a record shop in Brixton.

The space has become a focal point for an ever shifting reggae community in Brixton. And it’s not just old school, either. Mixing with some familiar faces was a largely young crowd.

It reminds me a lot of my own youth club days - not so much in terms of the style of music, but more about the desire to simply have fun through music with others.

Selecter Thursday has become the best Thursday night out in Brixton.

I’m pleased the 1,001 Albums list threw up the Shack album this morning. I’d forgotten completely about the band, plus The Pale Fountains.

There was a lot going on back in 1999 - both musically and personally. I was always aware of HMS Fable through the music press, though I’ve never listened to it. Which is odd, seeing as though the NME banged on about it.

It sits perfectly in a post-Britpop world. There’s even an argument that The Pale Fountains were very early forerunners for all that followed.

On HMS Fable you have the melodies, plus the production. I would have preferred something a little more raw and rough around the edges. The songs are strong enough to carry it without the polish.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Cultural appropriation probably isn’t appropriate. These days we call it a collab. Both styles suit each other, with Ry Cooder holding down the more freestyle Mali approach. Makes we want to go and listen to some Andy Kershaw.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

An unexpected new drop form Kae Tempest, and a most welcome cover of George Michael’s Freedom ‘90.

It doesn’t have the same energy of the original, but I don’t think that’s the point with Kae. It’s obviously a song with a powerful message as Kae continues with his outstanding artistic and personal development.

It’s better than the ropey Robbie Williams cover, recorded with a similar message in mind.

George would have been proud of the direction being taken here. I often wonder how he would have thrived in a post-WOKE 2025 cultural environment.

Kae’s playing Brixton on Saturday. I’m keen to cut a deal with a tout.

Light and cheerful, with an almost rural feel throughout. As ever with foreign language albums, it helps that I haven’t got a chuffing clue what they’re banging on about. It’s probably something as mundane as the price of a pint of milk.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Thoughts on the David Bowie Centre over at V&E East.

tl;dr Where’s Dave? I struggled to find him in spirt amongst the sterile setting of the vast storehouse out east.

Actually, that’s a little unfair.

The DB Collection itself is a right faff to find. Once I had dragged my arse all the way over from Stratford tube, past the Copper Box and then a bit further to the V&E, all would be fine, I thought.

Wrong.

There was zero signage for the DB Collection. Or nothing visible that leaps out at you.

I had a tight deadline as I was booked in at a specific time slot. I had to find the Collection or lose my spot.

I asked a staff member - who was looking cool as fuck, in the oh so urban V&E livery.

“Up two flights of stairs and turn left by aisle 27.”

OK…

And so I headed up two flights, turned left, and then nothing except more racks hoarding the world’s largest jumble sale of tat, aka the new V&E Storehouse.

I asked another staff member. This time I was given more detailed instructions.

Ah - so there’s the entrance. But yeah, what a bloody faff.

The V&E has been keen to hype up the DB Centre with limited drops for ticket availability. If something is so hot, then I would want to make a splash about it at the actual Storehouse.

What awaits inside is a curated selection of the 90,000 items from the Bowie archive, all entrusted to the V&A for a public show and tell.

That’s obviously a lot of floor space needed, which isn’t there. And so the items are rotated every few months or so.

It’s a clever marketing ploy for repeat visits, even if tickets are free.

Exit through the gift shop, etc.

I made my way into what I thought was the first room. It turned out to be the only room.

Oh. So is that it?

It’s not that the DB Centre is dull, but it is lacking in any sense of the artist being amongst you. One large video screen doesn’t cut it.

For such a visual artist, it’s a little odd that some of his costumes are packaged up in suit bags, and then hung up on high.

Dave? DAVE?

Anyone home?

The QR thing was also a right pain. Little context is given in the display cabinets themselves. You need to access pdfs on your phone via the QR code to get a basic item description.

I found myself blue screening at my bloody phone, rather than actually engaging with some major artefacts of cultural significance that were right in front of my eyes.

When I did look up, there were some lovely moments. The TOTP Starman jacket, the Ziggy bodysuit knitwear, and even the Steve McQueen designed Earthling Union jacket are on display.

Bowie was at his best when he had the best hairstyle - which has to be 1975 and Young Americans, right? The display covering the plastic soul period is great.

Not so thrilling was the Yahoo! Internet Life Online Music Award.

I had a genuine wtf moment in seeing a Gail Ann Dorsey stage outfit with a retro Forest patch sewn in.

It was quite relaxed in the small space. My one memory from the paid for David Bowie Is at the V&E back in 2013 was the bunfight to view anything.

And so despite the schlep out East, despite the difficulty in finding the front door, and despite the Where’s Dave? angle, the DB Centre is probably worth a visit.

I hope that more can be made of the great man during future visits, given the vastness of the archive available.

I love the oddball story behind this. Writing an urban concept album based around losing £1k [SPOILER] down the back of a telly, shows that we have moved on from the days of 70’s prog.

This was so fresh when it was first released. There wasn’t anything like it around at the time. It does sound a little dated now, but only with the song references, and not the style. C-Mone steals the show.

I rinsed this to death back in the day. I wouldn’t have hesitated then in giving it five stars. I paused a little this morning. But yep - it still stacks up.

So ambitious, so cocky, so bloody young.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

A spare half hour or so hanging around in Notting Hill.

Hey! I know what. The old Music and Video Exchange is still open around these parts. You can’t beat a bit of Sunday lunchtime crate digging.

Music and Video Exchanges are quite a thing.

Back in the day the Fulham Broadway branch was my legit fence to offload all the endless promo crap that was sent my way. That kept me in BOOZE money for the week ahead.

I’m amazed that the Notting Hill shop is still open. It’s quite a treasure trove as well.

Vinyl, CD’s and yep, cassettes are all on sale. I struggled to see any videos. It’s best not to mess with a brand.

The place was buzzing around lunchtime - and not just with old muso farts like me.

It was encouraging to see the young folk of West London flocking through the vinyl and spending.

My budget didn’t quite reach to vinyl today. I did walk out with The The’s Time Bomb and the debut solo from the silly old racist Mozza - but he wasn’t a sill old racist back then, so, erm, that makes it alright then.

Suedehead remains a beautiful piece of work, sitting well immediately after the post- Smiths period. It’s also got the His Master’s Voice label imprint.

Time Bomb is of a similar theme. Beat(en) Generation is perhaps the last great rally cry against Thatcherism in the later 1980’s.

I had to leave the flat on Saturday afternoon. Have For Sale sign, have prospective buyers wanting to poke around.

It’s best to give them some privacy. But please do take your shoes off.

Oh…

I laced up my rain cherry red DM’s, and went off stomping towards Wankerville.

I made it a circular route, cutting through lovely Larkhall Park, a brief stretch along Wandsworth Road, and then up towards Wankerville Old Town.

My face doesn’t fit around here. I was clean cut and freshly shaven. But even my boy-ish good looks struggle a little with the Clap’ham 20-somethings.

I took cover in the charity shop stretch.

Clap’ham once had a half decent run of bog standard charity shops. The past few years has seen them morph into ‘vintage retro shops.’

This is Wankerville talk for add another £20 on to the price tag.

Trinity Hospice in the Old Town remains affordable. It has the second best CD collection in South London, only rivalled by Oxfam in Herne Hill.

I don’t usually waste my time digging through the charity shop CD crap: Cliff, Simply Red and Boyzone is your usual offering.

But an upside of having an upmarket neighbourhood like Clap’ham and Herne Hill is that the Bright Young Things do have good tastes in the CD’s they want to dispose of.

I spent five minutes flicking through. I ended up with a couple of Neil Young albums, and Beth Orton’s Comfort of Strangers.

Yours, for three quid all in, Guv.

Job’s a good ‘un.