Around new year I got asked if I'd like to do a DJ spot, the first time ever for me. Sounds like fun I thought. And it was, but I wouldn’t have imagined the wild, winding road it would lead me on.

The venue was a vinyl music cafe here in Chigasaki. The owner, Jyunichi, who’s a mate, asked me if I’d be their first guest in a new event they were starting. I wasn’t quite sure what he had in mind at first so I asked him to be a bit specific. ‘As a local musician here people want to know what kind of music formed you', he said, 'what you grew up listening to, in Wales’, and he asked me to choose 20 songs for a 2-hour show. He said it was would be part interview too and that he’d record it for use on his Tokyo area radio show. Okay, fair enough, I thought. The date was set for February 22nd. 

Jyunichi has a longstanding connection with the band Southern All Stars, legendary in Japan, indeed he did a lot to get them up and running in the early days. They're from this town and we have Southern Beach here, Southern-dori (street) too, which I actually live on. He was best mates right from the early years of primary school with the main man, Keisuke Kuwata. He has also had his own career in the music biz, on the exec side, and the cafe has tens of thousands of records lining the walls and a discerning, sophisticated clientele.

So I started having a look at what music had hooked me and where it had led. At first I was delighted and inspired by the whole idea, a wonderful task to get my teeth into I thought, but before long it was doing my head in. Music had been such a passion from a very early age and I began to appreciate just how much there was to acknowledge.

It began dominating my thoughts daily. I’d nail down an artist, many were shoe-ins, but then it was... but which song..? It was soon alive nightly too, in my dreams. I was constantly waking up with new feelings and my list, before long a smorgasbord of scribbles and crossings out, spent its nights on the floor beside the bed. 

 

At first it seemed natural it would come right up to present day, but I soon realised that wasn’t gonna happen. In the end I decided to focus on just the very formative and that got me up to 17, from age 3.

With about a week to go, Jyunichi’s wife Hiromi asked me how it was going. I gleefully told her I had it whittled down to about 50. 

In the end though it really came together rather beautifully, presenting it was exhilarating, and the whole thing was a massive buzz. 

 

Here are my selections:

 

Part 1  1963 - 1973

1. ‘62 Venus In Blue Jeans - Jimmy Clanton 2.20

There was always singing and song in our house. My mother played the piano and my dad had a rich baritone voice. He loved singing. He could always be heard doing it and he was a fixture at the local pub almost till the day he died. Waking on Sunday mornings you could often hear him singing down in the kitchen, making the 'cup of tea' he would then bring upstairs and deliver to all of our bedsides along with a couple biscuits. 

When I was a kid, a real little kid, my mother started taking me to Howell’s department store in Cardiff, where she had worked prior to my birth. There they had a record section, with newly installed booths where you could listen to records on headphones. Each time we went we listened to different ones, then I got to choose one of them to buy and take home. So we had quite a lot of these around the house when I was growing up. They had a dark red centre I remember, with ‘Embassy’, the record label name, written on them. This one was the one that stuck in my mind the most. When I googled it to see when it was actually a hit I was amazed to find it was 1962, making me just three years old at that time.

 

2. ‘65 Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau - Treorchy Male Voice Choir 

Most of the coal mining community towns of the south Wales valleys had male voice choirs. It was big part of the local culture and some of them, like the Treorchy Male Voice here, became world-famous. Though we lived in Cardiff, both my parents were valleys born and bred and in the 60s my father was a member of the Sengenydd Male Voice in Caerphilly. In 1965 or '66 they toured in Germany, and having fought in the war this proved a challenging and ultimately quite cathartic experience for him. Just before they left, they did a send-off performance in a church. We must've been late, for I remember walking in and being hit by the sound of 40 deep male voices resonating away together. I was riveted, goosebump stuff. I’ve never forgotten the impact of that moment, or, curiously, the smell of the inside of that church

 

3. ‘65  Tropical Bird - Trinidad Steel Band  2.20

Another very vivid and profound experience at this tender age was at a carnival. Exactly where and when this was I can’t pinpoint, but we were still living in Cardiff so I’d guess I was 5 or 6. Being on the western side of Britain and with a thriving port throughout the 19th century because of the coal industry, the city had developed a strong ethnic community in the docks areas of Butetown and Tiger Bay, one of the oldest in the UK. Many of these folks were from the Caribbean and there in the carnival procession was a West Indian steel band. I’d never heard anything like it, I don’t think I’d even seen a black person in the flesh before either, and I was captivated by their energy. I remember the huge grins of these long-limbed guys - there must have been 8 or more of them - as they went through their paces enthusiastically and playfully delivering their intoxicating, rhythmic music from the back of a truck. I was up on my dad’s shoulders and I remember urging him to keep pace with them down the street - something carnival parade spectators didn’t really do, they usually just found their spot and stood in it, but we followed along with their float as it moved along the road. They soon noticed me and began directing their smiley gaze my way. The sound of steel drums has always always brought me back to this moment and I’m very grateful for it. This was also the catalyst for a deep love of reggae and its intoxicating groove that kicked in for me in the late 70s and early 80s, slightly outside the time frame of this account. It's nevertheless significant though. One of my fundamental later experieces, during my college years, was getting into (and out again) the Steel Pulse van. 

 

‘65 Mr Tambourine Man - The Byrds 2.29

The radio was always on in our house, especially in my early years. My mother didn’t work then and I got to hear a lot of the radio-play songs of the time. I came to love this one and it would get me whenever it came on. I loved the sound, the whole feel of it, it was different, and I would listen thrilled from start to finish. Two years later, in March 1967, we left Cardiff and moved to the small coastal village of Rhoose about 10 miles west, and I soon had my first experience of being able to go into a record shop all on my own. One of the shops in the village, a kind of general store, had turned part of its space into a record section. I could go in there and look through all the records. It became a bit of a perennial on radio and one day I went in to try and buy it. I remember the owner, Bev James, patiently explaining to me that it was already too old, that the records he had in the shop were just the current hits, the ones in the charts at that time. I remember being very disappointed. I was to have to wait till I got ’The Byrds Greatest Hits’ album in my teens. 

So it was a total thrill some 50 years later to get to work with the Chief Byrd himself, Mr Roger McGuinn, on his 2015 tour of the Hawaiian islands. When I’d hear the golden strains of the Tambourine Man intro on that jangling Rickenbacker 12-string come spilling out of his amp, isolated and with a mic in front of it there backstage in the grand old 1920’s vintage Hawaiian theatres that served as the venues, I’d get those very same excited feelings I did when I was six years old. 

 

‘67 Last Train To Clarksville - The Monkees 

My early mentor in 'pop music' was my older cousin June. She was four years older than me and although her family moved from South Wales across to Bristol in the mid 60s, we got to see each other often and spend a lot of our summer holidays together at our Nana’s holiday caravan by the sea at Fontygary at the bottom end of Rhoose. I learnt about the bands of the time from her and we’d spend hours poring over her music magazines. The Monkees were our favourites, we’d love drawing their guitar-shaped logo. Then there was The Hollies, The Kinks, The Move, Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick And Titch, Herman’s Hermits, The Dave Clark Five, of course The Beatles.. I could go on. On the side of the Fontygary caravan park shop, there was an annex lean-to room with windows all round its three sides where you could take drinks and ice cream and hang out. It had a juke box and we'd excitedly put pennies in that to hear our favourite songs. This was a time when music came alive for me in a different way. All around it was the Summer of Love, 1967. I didn’t know it at the time.

 

‘67 Whiter Shade of Pale - Procul Harum

I visited Bev’s record shop a few times that year and this was the first record I bought there, indeed the very first record I ever bought by myself. I saved up my pocket money until it reached the sum of 6 shillings and 7 pence, then tripped on down to Bev’s to buy 'A Whiter Shade of Pale'. I remember laying out all my pennies on his counter, then gazing at the mustard and white centre of the disc I received, DERAM in big capital letters, all in its virgin-white paper sleeve. Every time I’d heard that organ intro come on the radio I was entranced, indeed it would stop me in my tracks, and now I loved that I had control over it, that I could spin the disc and delight in it any time I liked. With this one too there's an epilogue. In 1978 I saw Procol Harum at Cardiff University and stood inches from the stage, half a tab of LSD doing its thing in my consciousness, as they performed their timeless masterpiece. I was even able to make regular eye contact with the organ player. My aura was glistening.

 

‘67 Carrie Anne - The Hollies 

This was another I bought at Bev’s. I loved the catchy melody, I loved the tight, acrobatic group vocals, I loved that it had steel drums in it! Whether it was the rich, deep blend of the male voice choir, the cool laid back grooves of the steel bands, or the tight harmonies of The Byrds or The Hollies, the music I would soon gravitate towards when I had a more mature ear certainly had its roots in these early years and the tunes that grabbed me then. 

A famous family story came out of this one, the kind that your dad loves to tell girlfriends when you first bring them home. I used to love performing even at that age, and I would put records on our radiogram, a weighty oak all-in-one record player and radio, and sing along in front of my family. The chorus of this song contains the lyric ‘so like a woman to me, like a woman to me’. But seven-year-old Paul was singing what he heard, which was ‘so like a wunna to me, like a wunna to meeeee’!

 

‘68 Lady Madonna - The Beatles 

Bev soon started giving me a bit of discount since I was spending all my pocket money there. I was captivated by the piano here, particularly the intro, and I played this record to death, likewise the B-side, Baby You’re A Rich Man. I wasn't old enough at the time to be aware just how much of a phenomenon the Beatles were, indeed it was only going to the States in the mid 70s that made me fully realise that. To me at this time they were just another great band. This was the only single of theirs I ever owned, though I loved what Strawberry Fields/Penny Lane evoked for me and remember trying to buy that one too, in vain as it turned out.

 

‘72 Meet Me On The Corner - Lindisfarne

I’ve jumped ahead 4 years now. I could easily have found lots to fill in those intervening years with as my interests didn't wane one bit. I had quite a number of records picked up through those years, but since I was looking for the ‘Premier League’ of influences, I had to concede there was nothing there that was significant enough to highlight here. So picking things up with this one, I really am into a new era. I was now 13 and had gone up to the 'big school' in nearby Barry, latterly of 'Gavin and Stacey' fame. 

I first heard this song on the car radio, can’t remember where we were going, but I remember telling my mother and brother to sshhhh so I could hear what the name of the band was at the end of the song. This became a top 5 hit in the UK and Lindisfarne soon became my first real fave band. It wasn’t long after hearing this that I bought the album it was off, Fog On The Tyne. It was my first ever LP and it went round really slow, 33 rpm. Again, I saved my pocket money pennies, then one day after school down the hill I trooped to Christopher’s Record Shop, a ‘real’ record shop this one, not like the ‘one wall of a general store’ at Bev‘s, plonked down my considerable collection of coin on their counter and came home with 'Fog On The Tyne'. It was swiftly followed by their first album, 'Nicely Out Of Tune' and their new one 'Dingly Dell' and Alan Hull quickly became one of my favourite songwriters.

 

’72 Heart of Gold - Neil Young

I remember the very night I first heard this. In 1972 the then-biggest out-of-town shopping centre in the UK opened in Caerphilly, north of Cardiff. It was called Carrefour, a French company, and it was a very big deal at the time. I remember we went off there as a family one evening, and it was on the way back that 'Heart Of Gold' came on the radio. Funny how things stick in your mind. I had much the same reaction hearing this as I’d had to Lindisfarne’s Meet Me On The Corner - the harmonica, the thudding bass, the folk-rock feel - there was an instant rapport and inside me lights I didn't know were there suddenly started coming on. It wasn’t long before I had the 'After The Goldrush' album. 

 

’72 Gudbuy t’Jane - Slade

Like many around me, I soon became a big fan of the charts. I was 12 or 13 years old and the culture around them had became a big thing, particularly in school. Before this I just liked looking at the chartlist, it didn't really matter that much to me what was happening, I just liked the music, but suddenly where all the songs and bands were on the 'hit parade' was a big deal, a bit like the football. The latest technological gizmo of the time was small portable radios and for the announcement of that week's new chart, always made on a Tuesday lunchtime around 12.30, we’d listen in on them, surreptitiously since it was during lesson time. Rumours would quickly go round the class as to which songs had made it clear to the top five, what were the big new entries, which song was Number One etc. There were quite a few UK bands hitting those peaks at that time, with Slade and T-Rex in particular leading the charge. Whereas I liked the chart music both of them made, there was something about Bolan I couldn’t really relate to but I really did love Slade. I went out and bought the album ‘Slayed’, and the single version of this too prior to that too, probably one of the last singles I ever bought. 

 

‘73 Whiskey In The Jar - Thin Lizzy

There seemed to be a such wealth of riches of music at that time. And there was. Even in the charts. Another song that really caught me was this one, the distinctive and groovy guitar intro especially. I had no idea at the time it was a traditional Irish song and that was of no consequence for the 14-year-old me. They were also the very first band I would see live, when this song was in the charts. Another candidate for this slot and deserving of an 'honourable mention' was 'Broken Down Angel' by Nazareth. They were the second band I ever saw, also when this was in the charts, as it was just a few days later, I'm pretty sure.

 

73 Love Is Here To Stay - Hobo

Another older cousin was to about have a different kind of affect on me and my musical development. I say cousin, though he actually married my cousin Joanna. His name was Colin and he played in a 5 piece folk rock band called Hobo. They also happened to be the house band at Rockfield, a world famous recording studio in the Welsh countryside and actually a working farm, known most notably as the place where Queen recorded 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. Colin and Jo got married in March 1973 and after the wedding ceremony and reception, immediate family were back at my Uncle Mel’s house in Bargoed. The house was typical of the long narrow terraced houses of the South Wales valleys, the 'front room' of which the family rarely used, since it was usually kept tidy for guests. That day I heard music coming from there and I wandered in, to find four guys with long hair and beards to match sitting around with a couple of acoustic guitars and all singing harmony. It was wonderful. Their sound was reminiscent of the band America, indeed it turned out they had the same manager. I don’t know how long I stood there but I knew at that moment that I wanted to do THAT. I decided to learn the guitar and I duly got one, a cheap one, in Spain on a family holiday that summer, but that was merely the first of no less than FIVE attempts before I finally broke through with actually learned how to play. It was to be five more years before I finally cracked it, and there was a motivation, when as a first year university student I realised that it really did get you the chicks.

 

73 New Soft Shoe - Gram Parsons

In the late summer of 73 my whole relationship with music took on a huge new turn - American music, and in particular west coast LA country rock. Again I remember the first time I heard this song. My father and I were going into Cardiff to the football, something we did every other Saturday in these years, which means it was after 2pm on a Saturday afternoon and The Alan Freeman Show was on the radio, BBC Radio One. And on came this record. I’d never heard anything so beautiful and soulful in my life. I made a note of the name, and the album name, GP, and the very next weekend I was into Cardiff again to try and buy it. With a couple of mates from school in tow, I found my way to Spillers Records on The Hayes and there was the album, actually on the wall. What’s more, I heard from the staff that there was a new one due out, which was Greivous Angel. I took GP home and loved it. I didn’t even see it as 'country' music really, and in many ways it isn't - it's much more than that, but to me it was just music and it sounded just so cool. Within a month or so though, I so shocked to be reading in the music press of Gram’s sudden death and the bizarre circumstances around its aftermath. I quickly picked up Greivous Angel, soon followed by the Flying Burrito Brothers 'Gilded Palace of Sin' album, still one of my all time faves.

By this time I was already the proud owner of a few LPs, mainly as Christmas and birthday presents, but now I had the bug and wanted more. My dad agreed to pay me at a higher rate than my previous pocket money (allowance in American) for my chores around the house and I was doing any and all that I could. The grass in the back garden had never been kept so trim. It wasn’t long though before my record buying addiction had me working behind-the-scenes in a pub, my first ever part-time job.

 

73 I Wish I Was Your Mother - Mott The Hoople

Another chart band I loved, or at least a band releasing cool single after cool single and creating a major profile for themselves through the singles charts, was Mott The Hoople. At some point in this year I picked up their ‘Mott’ album, and there tagged on right at the end of side two was this lovely song. Decorated with sweet, delicate mandolin by guitarist Mick Ralphs, soon leave to leave and join Bad Co, it was very untypical of their trademark upfront boogie rock ‘n’ roll style. I already loved the mandolin sound in rock and folk from my love affair with Lindisfarne, still strong as ever despite the band splitting into two in this year, but this was the song that was singularly most responsible for me wanting to learn to learn to play it, even though that would take nearly 15 more years to materialise.

 

‘73 Teach Your Children - CSNY

I made a lot of new friends in middle school in these years as a result of my burgeoning mutual interest in music. One of these was Roger Martin. He had an older brother and a few older mates that were schooling him, whereas I had no older siblings. A couple of people emerged to fill that role though and Roger was one. We’d often exchange albums for a few days. I don’t remember what it was I lent him, but in exchange I got ‘Déjà Vu’ by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young. I still remember his words. “If you love harmonies you’ll love this. Lie on your bed with the headphones on, close your eyes, and fall in love with Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young”. I did, and it was another gateway album into this genre of American music.

 

‘73 East St. Louis Toodle-oo - Steely Dan

I chose to close the first half of my presentation with this one, even though I was actaully jumping ahead three years chronologically. For the experience in question had a fundamental affect not only on my musical tastes but on my young life as a whole. 

American music had become huge for me. Actually I’d already been to America, as an 11-year-old in March 1971 on a family holiday. We’d stayed for three weeks with my cousin Sheila, my Dad’s niece, and her family, and for reasons other than music that had been an incredibly vivid and transformational experience for young Paul. The summer of ‘76 saw my dad, my brother and I (my mum volunteered to stay home to hold the fort of our small family business) back again for several weeks, in small town Virginia. Bizarrely, Sheila and (also Welsh) husband Bill's house was in the very same neighbourhood as tele-evangelist preacher Jerry Falwell. 

There was a lot of back and forth between our families throughout the 70s and we were, despite the considerable distance, very familiar not only with them but with their best friends stateside too, a very genial family called the Bertis. They had a son a year older than me, Gary, and after meeting on that first visit in ‘71 and consolidating on a trip they all made to us in '73, the two of us had by now become quite pally. This time when I visited it was August, school holidays were in full swing, and we hung out a lot in Gary’s basement with his friends over. Quite a concept for me to get my head around was this, the American house basement. It really was the chill zone, and, in this case at least, adult-free. There was a crystal clear stereo system with huge state-of-the-art speakers and quite a record collection, since Gary was the youngest of four kids. It was soundproofed (I’m guessing anyway) so we didn’t bother anyone else in the house and, and here’s the best bit, we could hang out there all hours of the night. And we did, sometimes till dawn. Not only this, but Gary was already driving and had his own car. All this was several million light years away from how teenage life was for us kids back in the UK and it was just mindblowing for me. Like, one time on a wwe went off for a hamburger at 2am, just got in the car and drove to an all-night diner. 

Most importantly though, for this visit, they were into smoking weed. Though I’d smelt it and seen it smoked, truth be told I was a little intimidated by the idea, especially the illegality aspect. Besides, I hadn’t ever really had the opportunity and I’m not sure I would’ve done it even if it had presented itself. I was aware by now that all the musicians I listened to loved to smoke weed though, but as a direct consequence of my mother's smoking in the car when I was a young child - something I soon came to regard as a real blessing - I hated tobacco smoke with a vengeance and had never once had even the slightest desire to try that. Even the very idea of smoking anything had to that point freaked me out. But in this environment suddenly it felt different. The first time I ever smoked weed, and appreciated the effects of it - at actually the second time of asking, the first time it 'didn't work' - this is what was playing on that stereo system. All of the wonderfully crafted ideosyncratic sounds of this classy Dan tune became almost visual in my mind. It was exhilarating, and mesmerizingly freaky. Gary commented on my demeanour. "Heyyy look, Paul's got it, Paul's got it!!"

 

 

Part2 1974 - 76

74 Already Gone - Eagles 4.15

So, dropping back in time a little to probably early 1974, I remember hearing this song on the radio first and being really zapped by it. I loved the freshness, the bright electric guitar sound, and there were those fantastic harmonies again. Very soon after, possibly just a week or two, I heard it on record. A new mentor for me was my best friend Andy‘s sister Jackie, three or four years older than us in her late teens, and she was to introduce me to a slew of new music, particularly from the LA country rock scene. 

Soon I had the album myself. I devoured it and in a very short time The Eagles were my new favourite band. I remember reading in the stylised font on the back of the sleeve the names of the band members. And another name stood out too, for having written the song that had initially hooked me and brought me in. That name was Jack Tempchin. Who would have believed that some 40 years later I would get to play it with him on stage and be able to call him my friend. 

 

 

74 Take It Easy/Our Lady of the Well - Jackson Browne 7.19

Perhaps the hardest thing about these song choices was which Jackson Browne song to pick represent his influence on me, not only as a musician but as a human being. In the end I chose this, since it links to the Eagles and was one of the first JB songs I ever heard. It would be nearly 10 more years before I got to see him play live. That was at the Glastonbury Festival in June 1982, quickly followed by the Hammersmith Odeon finale of the same tour. Myself and my girlfriend at the time Bev were both huge fans and we had standing tickets right at the back. But that didn’t matter at all. It’s still one of the most moving gigs I’ve ever been to, just about everyone around us was crying at some point. JB remains to this day my absolute favourite musician. It was an absolute thrill to get unlimited backstage access to his gig in Hiroshima in 1998.

 

74 Fallin’ In Love - Souther Hillman Furay Band 3.31

Andy’s sister Jackie introduced me to this and it really did cement my interest and fascination, almost to the exclusion of all else, with Southern California country rock. I began to realise and appreciate the threads in the web that connected all these musicians together. All of the three main men here, JD Souther, Chris Hillman and Richie Furay were strong candidates to make this list in their own right too.

 

74 Bad Weather - Poco

It wasn’t long before I discovered Poco. From the threads in the web I knew that Richie Furay, whose songs I'd loved on the Souther Hillman Furay Band albums, had come there through Poco, and Buffalo Springfield too. My first album of theirs was a double compilation of material released when they left the Epic record label from their first seven albums. The cover featured the back of a satin jacket with an elaborate band logo on it. In the summer of '75 I painted that large on my bedroom wall. They were the first of my fave US bands I ever got to see live. I sneaked off to London with my friend Richard without parental consent, and on a schoolday no less, to see them on their Rose Of Cimarron tour in 1976. Since we'd had to leave our homes as if going to school, we arrived quite early in London, around lunchtime, and went straight to find the venue, the New Victoria Theatre. We came upon it at the back of the building, where there was an open door and we could hear the strains of Rose of Cimarron coming from inside. In we went, down a dark passageway, the music getting louder and suddenly we came out side stage. There was the band! We were thrilled and watched not quite believing our luck until after five minutes or so some miserable old staff bloke saw us and threw us out. 

 

74 As The Raven Flies - Dan Fogelberg  4.31

Dan Fogelberg was another discovery from the Alan Freeman Radio One Saturday afternoon show driving in to the football. That was a song called ‘Illinois’ from his second album ‘Souvenirs’, from which this also comes. This one features Joe Walsh on guitar in one side of the stereo with Dan in the other and it really is a mighty guitar dual. I lost a bit of faith with Dan in later years as he got more into AOR, but I really loved the purity and open heartedness that pervades his earlier albums and through them he earns his place here. I was moved to tears to see him in concert in Virginia in 1982.

 

74 Standing on The Rock - The Ozark Mountain Daredevils  4.00

This band came joyfully crashing into my life in probably late '74. I joined a record club that as a free offer for new members gave you a choice of three albums. One I chose, totally randomly, was their ‘It'll Shine When It Shines’ album. Guess I just liked the look of the cover, but this turned out to be an absolute gem and has become a lifelong favourite. There is something very wholesome and eternally positive about the Ozarks mix of downhome country and rhythm and blues. They never abandoned their mountain home in the midwest, so were never seduced by the boons and bright lights of the music biz, and this shines through in their music. Again, which song to choose.. in the end I was happy to go with this one, off their first album. 

 

75 The Treasure - Stephen Stills Manassas  8.03

This album is a candidate for my best album of all time. I think it's a masterpiece in many ways. Not only is it a fantastic band with a chemistry that made it gell in a way greater than the sum of its considerable parts, but Stills was surely at the peak of his powers here both as a songwriter and a performer. The threads in the web were at work again, with half of the SHF Band here, particularly Chris Hillman and Al Perkins, who both made major contributions. The song I chose is impossibly long for this purpose, but it is for me the high point in an abum of all high points and I wanted it, even if I couldn't play it all. In the summer of '75, with my mother's blessing I painted my bedroom orange and black to the strains of this album. It will always conjure up that for me, even down the smell of the emulsion paint.

 

75 Cello Song - Nick Drake  2.27 

Though by now I was getting solidly, almost exclusively, into the American west coast scene, I still retained a strong interest in what was happening in folk and folk rock circles in the UK. Like most poeple these days, I wasn't aware of Nick Drake's music while he was alive - he died in late '74 - but unlike most I discovered him very soon afterwards. There were a lot of folkie singer-songwriters around at the time but he always stood out as different. I loved the mystical, haunting quality, the unique guitar style, the quintessential 'Englishness'. Again, which song to choose... I thought long and hard and changed my mind several times before going for this one. 

 

75 Solid Air - John Martyn 5.49

John Martyn became a major hero of mine in the 70s. I had a couple of his albums and loved them, but this was really cemented when I first saw him live. It was in his echoplex phase and I was dumbfounded by what one man could do with just one acoustic guitar, so playfully, so soulfully. I saw him live many times into the 80s, whenever I could. Again for these purposes, which song to choose... I went for this as it was one of the first JM songs I ever heard and I love Danny Thompson's bass here.

 

75 Roll On Babe - Ronnie Lane's Slim Chance  4.23

I knew his name from The Faces, and was aware of his contributions to early Rod Stewart albums that I had, but it was only when I saw his wonderful band Slim Chance I think on The Old Grey Whistle Test that I really saw him in his light and got the bug for his music. I loved his gypsy spirit and always felt he was kind of transatlantic, with English folkiness and Americana influences beautifully combining in an enchanting and, as the years have proved, timeless way. 

 

76 Wasn’t Born To Follow - The Byrds 3.43 

I love this later 60s jangly Byrds sound, with Clarence White’s brilliant country twang guitar perfectly showcased. It wasn’t until the mid 70s that I picked up the album this was on, though I did remember it from the Easy Rider soundtrack. A no brainer for this selection.

 

76 American Girl - Tom Petty 3.35 

In 1976 my first real girlfriend, Louise, got herself a Saturday job in a record shop in Cardiff - Spillers Records, coincidentally (though we didn’t know it at the time) the oldest record shop in the world, founded in 1894. One day we came back from lunch to find the owner Nick at the rear of the shop with a small promo group, one of whom was a tall, lean American guy who stood out a bit in his red jeans, cowboy boots and red cowboy hat. Nick introduced us and told us whatever we did we shouldn’t miss this guy’s band (opening for either Thin Lizzy or Nils Lofgren, I cant remember which) at Cardiff Capitol that night. We had a brief chat with him, he was smily and very humble, spoke with a slow, engaging southern drawl. I started telling him how much I loved American music and to my surprise he came straight back with how much he loved the British invasion bands. That’s all I remember about the chat but we took Nick’s advice and saw his band and were blown away. I went straight out and bought their record, the first Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers album. It wasn’t long before this one, ‘American Girl’, and ‘Breakdown’ were all over the radio and the rest is history as they say. It wasn’t long either till we were thinking ‘wow, we met that guy!’. I chose this song as it was what I remember was the single out at that time, was playing in the shop that day and was my introduction to Tom’s music.