So Christmas has come and gone in the twinkling of a bearded man’s eye, and he’s back in the North Pole, and we’re all clearing up the detritus of a week’s worth of fun and frolics (not my words but the words of several cards this year wishing these things upon me). I did have fun, but not sure what frolics are really, unless it’s licking the backs of Mexican frogs for their hallucinogenic properties, which surely can’t be the case… can it?
Anyhoo, one of the programmes on the box which I stumbled upon was the ‘Top of the Pops Review of the Year’, and I’m afraid it was a telling moment. I think I knew I was somewhat… ahem… out of touch, but this programme not only confirmed my suspicions but wrapped them up in a big bow and handed them to me along with a card that laughed when I opened it. I mean, bloody hell, I would have liked to have known a couple of acts, but no, not really. I mean, where do folks access this stuff? Is it radio? I don’t think so. It must be TikTok and the like, I suppose; it seems I’m not so much out of touch as completely beyond contact. In a similar vein, but at the other end of the spectrum, Jools Holland’s Hootenanny seems to be even more removed from my tastes these days; a series of heritage acts that put on a show once a year. Am I being harsh? Where’s a music TV show that actually trawls the grassroots? There must be a way of doing one, given how cheap things can be made these days. And, lo, my New Year’s project just hoved into view. Watch this space!
Musically, I received a couple of albums that I had wanted to investigate. Please find Bikini Robot Army and Fust, one a bit hit or miss, the other a keeper. The radio show was the traditional New Year chill-out, this year entitled ‘The Mellowgasm’ featuring, amongst others, Small Town Jones, Bonnie Prince Billy, The Felice Brothers, Sandy Denny, Kassi Valazza, Hurray for the Riff Raff, The Breeze, Conor Oberst and many more. It’s a tonic for us all. As ever.
Hi Keith and a prosperous 2026 to you. I could not agree more with your sentiment of being out of touch, a) with 99% of the music on television these days, and b) how folks access their music. It seems I did the right thing to miss TOTP, and even the retro shows on BBC4 on Friday evenings include bands and singers not readily in my memory, but I’ll add my thoughts on the dire Hootenanny on NYE. Again, I struggled with some of the names both on stage and in the ghastly audience (Lenny Henry was embarrassing) and as for the one “star” I hoped to enjoy, Ronnie Wood, he may be a good guitarist but cannot write or sing to save his life, and even that looked likely to come to a close at times. I decided not to stay up for Lulu, having been bored stiff by the thin soullessness of every other performer. And one final gripe, but in a similar out-of-touch vein, having watched the London fireworks, what is it with organisers of such junkets that they must play unknown (to me at any rate) music so loudly it overwhelmed the bangs and fizzes of the main spectacle. Maybe it’s a retired teacher thing?
Having seen CMAT at the AMAUK Awards last January it gave me the chance to say “oh yeah, I’ve seen CMAT live, somewhere a bit smaller than Glastonbury too…yeah, I was up the front…” .
We do try and bring you more new artists than the (deserved) attention we give “the old relics” – and with the ever finer cutting of musical fandoms into tiny cliques you may find you’re a bit cooler than you think. If that matters. Which it doesn’t.