Freska All Stars - We Come To Rock

Wow. I remember when the Freskanova label started, the records sounded so sharp, fresh, fly, funky, of the moment. The Freestylers were on Freskanova (I think?). 1997. Big Beat. Hip hop and dance. It was some sort of UK interpretation of the cool kookiness of the Beastie Boys, melded with the reckless abandon of the UK clubbing scene.

I remember buying their first release, cat. no. FNT1, and thinking how lucky I was to have got in at the start of this label, and promising myself to buy everything they put out, a bit like Wall Of Sound. Their label was the mark of quality. Given that this is FNT5, their 5th release, I think I might have the first five twelves.

This reminds me of the end of my degree, the start of my PhD, running around Leeds trying to get DJ gigs, MCing, playing in clubs. Red Stripe. A brown Carhartt beany that I loved. A big brown leather jacket that I'd customised - I'd ripped out the lining as it was a bit cumbersome and snug, and cut another buttonhole into a lapel so that I could fasten it right up under my chin. In fact, that's it - this record reminds me of the smell of that brown leather jacket. 

In fact, maybe the brown leather jacket is more interesting to me than the record. I loved that jacket, it really pulled my look together.

Phrack R - 'Catch 22 EP'

God bless John Peel. Right up until the point he died, he was still playing utterly bonkers music, and being totally, passionately, sincerely committed to it.

I bought this after hearing it on his show. In fact, this is the first record that the label Fused and Bruised released, and I've got it packed away in a sleeve with the second one that FaB did, the 'Bus, Dinner, Jam' EP by Futurecore. The more alert amongst you will have noticed that 'Bus, Dinner, Jam' sounds the same as 'Bustin' a jam', something I only realised when I went and asked for it by name in a record shop in Leeds. I forget what it was called, but I'm sure it was behind what is now House of Fraser. Was that Crash Records - surely not?

Of this EP, it's the track 'The Beatfreak' that I loved, a really minimal, over-compressed slab of electronic instrumental hip-hop. I used it for ages as a track to build rhymes around. I think I played it out a few times too, mostly when I did anything as an artist on the now defunct Soundclash label - 'The Beatfreak' is just such a dirty, swaggering slab of sonic 'shut-the-fuck-up-and-listen-to-me' that I think I used it as an opener to a DJ set a few times, and I'm pretty sure that one time I even rapped over it, plugging my headphones into the mic socket of the mixer and really cutting loose for a couple of minutes. I remember nobody took a blind bit of notice, but for those 2 minutes, DJing and rapping through headphones, I felt like a the bastard offspring of Grandmaster Flash and KRS-1. Happy days.

Primal Scream - 'Kowalski'

Primal Scream are such an enigma that I can't actually tell if they're arch zeitgeist-surfers, producing of-the-moment highbrow pop music that is meant to be discarded like used tissues (as Freddy Mercury memorably described Queen's output), or are just tedious bandwagon jumpers of the highest order.

I've no idea when or where I bought this, and I'm pretty sure this is about the third time I've played it. Maybe it's the Automator remix on the b-side that drew me to it. It certainly wasn't the shite-awful cover of '96 Tears', a laughable attempt at garage-punk-electronica fusion, that caught my ear.

Piss poor, tepid, emotionless. Oh well.

Blur - 'Blur'

Having listened to this album, I'd thought of something clever to write about it, but then realised that Blur had beaten me to it by calling this album 'Blur'. This is the sound of Blur being Blur without any thematic conceit driving their creativity.

In the battle of Britpop, it was often said that Oasis were The Beatles, mainly because they ripped off so many of their songs. The truth is, The Beatles never really had 'a sound' in the way that The Rolling Stones did. What marks The Beatles out is their restless creativity, which surely peaked with 'Yellow Submarine'.

I'm kidding of course . To quote the late, great Bill Hick's, 'they were so high they even let Ringo sing'. It's hard to know if with their later albums, The Beatles reached a creative plateau, and never fulfilled their potential of becoming the band they could have been. Although according to Alan Partridge, that was the band 'Wings'.

It's impossible for this record not to be swept away by 'Song 2', a mosh-pit anthem for the blipvert generation. So when this comes on, I'm reminded of dancing to it in sweaty clubs in Leeds. And I don't mean just as a punter, but also as a DJ. And I don't really mean dancing, I mean jumping up and down, with my fists clenched and my arms outstretched, feeling every little bit stress leave my body as I make myself one with the heaving mass of dancers, all screaming in unison, WOO HOO!

Catharsis. It feels good.

Radiohead - 'OK Computer'

What an amazing record. What a massive, mindblowing, perfect record. All the way through, I keep thinking 'this is the best bit of the record yet', time and time again. It's a rock record filtered through every studio device and human foible imaginable, and what emerges at the other end is damn near perfect.

It's odd that I think all this, and have absolutely no desire to go and see them live. I happily watched them tear the roof off the universe when they played Glastonbury, but I did it on TV, from my sofa, possibly from the far end of a bottle of really good white wine. I wonder why that is? Maybe if I don't go and share the experience with thousands of others, then Radiohead still belong to me, and me alone. No one else really understands them like I do. I LOVE YOU RADIOHEAD!

Anyway, as awesome as this album is, it reminds very clearly of one road trip that Rob, Aidan and I made from Leeds to Salisbury. We'd each made a mixtape for the journey, and at the time, Rob and I were really going to town on ours, using samplers to loop bits, overlay several tracks and so on. About halway through Rob's mix, the familiar computer-generated vocal of 'Fitter, Happier' started up. After a few lines of the acual lyrics, just as the mournful piano starts and the synths start to smother themselves to death, something weird happened. The voice started to go off message: 'when the seagulls follow the trawler...an elephant with his trunk stuck up his own dung funnel...' and so on. Basically, Rob had performed a slavish recreation of the track, and then changed the vocal into meaningless drivel from the end of the 20th century. The effect was uproar: I remember wiping away tears of laughter and looking at Aidan doing the same, while he somehow managed to keep driving and not kill us all, with Rob in the back seat looking delighted and laughing at our reaction. It was the most brilliant, perfectly-timed and unlikely cover version I think I'm ever going to hear.

Cornershop - 'When I Was Born For the 7th Time'

I like this album, but it really groans to support the weight of the opening two tracks. 'Brimful of Asha' was a big chart hit, and although the original version seems a tad languid compared to the Fatboy Slim remix that took it to the top of the charts, it's still a great pop song.

However what totally ruins this album for me is the the first four bars of 'Sleep on the Left Side' were used as a backing track for the talkie introduction to their daytime Radio 1 show by DJs Marc Riley and Mark Radcliffe. So every time I play this, I'm instantly taken back to a halcyon period where Radio 1 had two hilarious (but largely inappropriate to the demographic) chaps at the helm of their lunchtime show. They were dry, sardonic, intelligent and totally at odds with the rest of the DJ roster. It was as though the controllers of the station thought that their listeners gained 20 IQ points for a couple of hours at lunchtime.

The PRS alone for that snippet of backing track must have made Cornershop a fortune.

Cat No: WIJLP 1065

Tracks: Sleep on the Left Side. Brimful of Asha. Butter the Soul. Chocolat. We're in Yr Corner. Funky Days are Back Again. What is Happening. When the Light Appears Boy. Coming Up. Good Shit. Good to be one the Road Back Home Again. It's Indian Tobacco My Friend. Candyman. State Troopers. Norwegian Wood.

The Verve - 'Urban Hymns'

I don't get Richard Ashcroft. I know that to many people he's like some modern rock shaman, chanellling the spirit of Jim Morrisson, wild, tortured and half-mad, but I don't see it. I see a lot of swagger and some good songs staggering under the weight of the enormous chip on his shoulder. This may or may not be influenced by the fact that even my good lady appears to have a soft spot for him. Watch it Ashcroft, she's mine.

I think I've only played this a handful of times, but for me the stand-out track by miles is 'Catching the Butterfly', which is the sort of naggingly beautiful but slightly weird production that people used to put on the b-side of a seven inch single. I've no idea why I bought it - it's not my thing at all. It reminds me of being in my room on Brudenell Road, Leeds, playing this record and thinking 'why have I bought this piece of crap?', which is all a bit literal, but perhaps indicative of how little emotional connection I've managed to make with this record.

Catalogue Number: HUTLP45

Tracks: Bitter Sweet Symphony. Sonnet. The Rolling People. The Drugs Don't Work. Catching the Butterfly. Neon Wilderness. Space and Time. Weeping Willow. Lucky Man. One Day. This Time. Velvet Morning. Come On.