Interesting how James Blunt has now replaced Gareth Hunt in the rhyming slang stakes.

The Showbusiness Reaper comes this week to: Jack Wild, John Junkin, Linda Smith and Ivor Cutler.

Linda Smith’s death is the most shocking and unfair, at 48 years old and very much in her prime. She would have made a terrific old woman. Like Paul Merton and Willy Rushton, she was a born radio and TV panel-game performer. To type those words actually sounds a bit insulting: the medium of panel games is thought cheap and somehow lesser compared to, say, books or even solo stand-up albums. Is just being witty on a panel game enough, I want to say. Enough for what? Thousands enjoy your “work”, so why do I feel the need to put that word in inverted commas? It’s true I think her style of humour would have made for witty novels and plays, but all this is the snob in me talking. I of all people should recognise the value of Being rather than Doing. And Linda Smith did indeed make a living from just Being Linda Smith.

Apparently she did contribute to an anthology of comedians trying their hand at prose fiction, but her piece was cited by critics as one of the weakest in the book. Perhaps it’s that I always want to own a work by someone I admire; it’s like wanting to buy a postcard of a favourite painting again. You can get Best Of The News Quiz (or Just A Minute, or I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Club) CDs and tapes with her on, but I suppose I want her bits with the contributions from other panellists removed.

Actually I’ve just remembered, the BBC do put out anthology recordings like that, in their ‘At The BBC’ range. A ‘Linda Smith At The BBC’ CD would be perfect.

In an absolutely foul mood yesterday. No real reason to be, other than the usual frustration with my lack of getting things done. By about 8pm on the rain-splattered streets of Highgate I was actually holding my umbrella down over my face in case someone recognised me, like some ridiculous celebrity. I really, really didn’t want to speak to another human soul. If only there were ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs for pedestrians as well as hotel bedroom doors.

Naturally, someone did shout ‘Hello, Dickon!’, and I know who it was. I’m ashamed to say I pretended not to hear and didn’t stop. What do you do when you’re out and about in town but really don’t want to stop and speak to anyone? I suppose the answer is, you learn how to overcome those sort of feelings. One more thing the rest of the human race is better at than I.

What you’re meant to do is stop and smile and pretend to be pleased, even though inside you want to say ‘Don’t take it personally, but leave me alone. I’m trying to get home in the rain as quickly as possible, not out for a pleasant stroll. I’m not in the mood. ‘

I bet the Queen Mother must have felt that way on occasion. Still, thanks to recent revelations from his private papers, we all know that Prince Charles does feel like that.

Nevertheless, I feel a lot better today. The new Morrissey and Sparks albums have arrived for me to review.

Robin Ince’s Book Club comedy night features himself (and sometimes Chris Neill) reading out aloud from choice bad books. If ever I were asked to do the same myself, I’d pick the impressive Simon Goddard research-fest that’s frustratingly spattered with bad prose: “The Smiths: Songs That Saved Your Life”.

I actually referred to this failing of his in my diary before, when the first edition came out. There was a particularly silly description of Morrissey’s vocal on ‘Hand In Glove’ thus:

“”…[Morrissey’s] inimitable voice trembling upon each syllable with the force of a dormant human volcano suddenly erupting in a white-hot supernova of embryonic passion.”

This passage is strangely missing from the 2nd edition. I wonder if that was something to do with my diary? In which case, Mr Goddard, might I make a suggestion for the 3rd edition? Less drums in the mix, please.

He clearly feels the other three Smiths should be as celebrated as Morrissey. Now, this is fair enough with Mr Marr, but I’m not convinced that people rushed out to get all those wonderful records because they liked the way the drummer Mike Joyce played the drums. I would describe Mr Joyce’s talents as perfectly acceptable, but certainly not worth drawing attention to.

Not so with Mr Goddard. Throughout the book he feels the need to describe the drums. I find it embarrassing enough when music hacks refer to drum patterns at all (usually with winceworthy words like “pulsating”, “pummelling” and “pounding”) , so I suppose it’s quite a feat of thesaurus-dredging to be able to find enough different drum-compatible adjectives for the best part of eighty different Smiths songs.

So! I Present: The Dickon Edwards Guide To Simon Goddard’s “The Smiths: Drumbeats That Saved Your Life” (2nd Edition £14.99, reduced to £4.99 in HMV Oxford Circus.)

Hand In Glove: “punctuated by Joyce’s cymbal stutters” (ie, he plays the cymbals)

This Night Has Opened My Eyes: “Joyce’s subtly complex drum pattern with its soft pauses and delicate hi-hat fills” (ie, he plays the drums)

Still Ill: “Joyce underscores the buoyant optimism of the chorus itself with triumphant cymbal splashes” (getting desperate on this one…)

You’ve Got Everything Now: “Joyce’s clamant tom-tom fills” (Mr G raids Roget already, and it’s only 1984… three more albums to go!)

How Soon Is Now: “Joyce’s steady Diddley pulse” (steady, Diddley, steady…)

What She Said: “Joyce’s thunderous backbeat” (ie, he plays the drums)

I Know It’s Over: “…the raw fury of Joyce’s drum rolls”(Raw Fury! Starring Chuck Norris as Mike Joyce!)

The Queen Is Dead: “Joyce’s idiomatic drumming upon the palace gates” (not really: that would sound rubbish)

Frankly Mr Shankly: “Joyce’s Salvation Army stomp”(nope, that doesn’t really make sense, never mind)

Vicar In A Tutu: “Joyce’s breathless brush work”(hey, he’s Picasso now!)

Panic: “Joyce’s meaty, beaty brontosaurus stomp” (and now he’s Barney)

You Just Haven’t Earned It Yet Baby: “Joyce’s stomping, staccato beat” (he plays the drums)

Sweet and Tender Hooligan: “fuming drums… quaking like a bovver-boy stampede” (or, if you like, the drummer plays the drums like a drummer)

Sheila Take A Bow: “goaded by Joyce’s quaking floor-tom rumbles” (ooh, goad me, you floor-tom you!)

Death Of A Disco Dancer: “Joyce flays his kit in a cold voodoo sweat” (writer is getting sex-starved now, funny that)

I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish: Producer Stephen Street – shock horror – adds an electronic snare sample. How dare he, implies Mr Goddard, and quizzes Mr Street: “It wasn’t that I wanted to replace Mike Joyce… I just wanted to add more sounds so that his drumming had more texture.”

After all that stomping and flaying and quaking and clamant stuttering, and the producer wants more texture? Doesn’t he agree with Mr Goddard that Mr Joyce is the greatest drummer in the world, nay the greatest thing about The Smiths?

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before: “Joyce excels with a cannibalistic tom-tom assault” (cannibalistic tom-toms! run!)

A Rush And A Push: “buoyed by Joyce’s militaristic snare rolls, a more prominent feature on early mixes than on the final master” (or, how to make an exciting track sound boring)

Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me: “Joyce’s beat was that of an exhausted heart shattering into a thousand tiny fragments, each eight-bar cycle ending with a sudden rhythmic cardiac arrest that altered shape every time.” (Nurse!)

I Won’t Share You: “heavenly minimalism… even at the expense of Joyce’s presence”. (Oh, what a waste…!)

Dancing about architecture is hard enough, but when you become obsessed with pointing out the architecture happens to have walls…

Call me strange, but I really like The Smiths mainly because of that other man in the band. Who was he again?

A rather ace little pop biog to recommend: ‘Mr Cool’s Dream: The Complete History Of The Style Council’ by Iain Munn. (Wholepoint Publications, 2006).

Mr Munn is a shameless trainspotter-style fan, and the book is his own scrapbook-style history of Paul Weller’s eccentric (and very arch) soul-tinged pop group, which existed from The Jam’s break up in 1982 to the start of his solo career circa 1990. It originally emerged as a ring-bound limited edition pamphlet in the mid 90s, and has now been revised, rewritten and upgraded to a paperback version for 2006.

With the recent demise of Smash Hits, I can also recommend the Munn book to anyone who wants to read about the unique tone of 1980s UK pop media, given the vast array of chronologically-ordered clippings and quotes that comprise the bulk of the text. An unpretentious, instantly readable guide to an often deliciously pretentious (yet self-aware with it) pop group.

I’m always slightly annoyed when I see my old group Orlando described in passing, as it is in the recent Belle and Sebastian biography by a Mr Paul Whitelaw, as a Duran Duran-inspired band. Nothing against Mr Le Bon’s merry boat-bothering troupe, but if briefly describing Orlando must be done, I’d say we were more musically influenced by The Style Council and Dexys Midnight Runners, while lyrically tipping our hats to The Smiths, The Manic Street Preachers and Stephen Sondheim. There you go, cut and paste that, O Google-aided deadline whelks.

Fair enough that such writers haven’t the time to check for themselves. But in that case they really shouldn’t refer to what we sounded like at all. Better that than go with a lazy myth that rather says more about the hack than it does Orlando.

I mention this while thinking of Mr Munn’s book and pop books in general, because too many of them do the fan-pleasing stuff of collating third-party research with holding new interviews, but then make the mistake of attempting some sort of ‘literary’ feel, because the hack feels he has to Be a Writer.

In the case of the B & S book, the tome is full of italicised passages written in an attempt to emulate the precious style of the band’s own sleeve notes. When the band do this sort of thing themselves, it’s endearingly idiosyncratic. When a third party biographer does it, it’s somewhat less endearing, even annoying or embarrassing. On top of which, the book is also full of frustrating holes in the author’s research, along the euphemistic lines of ‘so-and-so’s response is not recorded’. Which often means either his emails or phone calls weren’t replied to, or the writer just didn’t bother to find out for himself. So Orlando sound like Duran Duran, that’ll do. If only he’d put as much effort into his research as he did into his italicised passages akin to ‘The Boy felt a bit gentle that day, and wondered if a passing fox would help him buy a new duffle coat…’

I actually emailed the B & S author about the Orlando reference some weeks ago, offering to send him a CD. He has yet to reply. His response is… not recorded. Serves me right for caring.

An example of a really thorough researcher is Mr Simon Goddard, whose recent book on The Smiths (“The Songs That Saved Your Life”), contains the result of his impressive investigations into every tiny aspect of each Smiths song’s adventure from creation to recording to performance, referring to lost out-takes and demos in a degree that must surprise even the people who made them. The problem comes when he tries to Be A Writer rather than just print the research in a readable manner (which is all the book’s target market really want). He feels the need to describe the music. Particularly what the drums sound like.

Rock book writers, heed my words. If you’re writing the story of one particular band, just concentrate on getting the research right, with the gossip, the quotes, the interviews, the anecdotes, and the trivia. That’s what we came for. Mr Munn’s Style Council book is a good, sugar-rush example of a fan simply making the book he and other fans (and those with an interest in the 80s pop scene) actually want to read.

Here’s another London club I can happily endorse. Fun and friendly, they even have a quiz once a month.

CLUB AIRPORT
every monday, 10 TIL 3
@ THE ROXY on 3-5 RATHBONE PLACE London W1
Tottenham Court Rd tube. 0207 636 1598
£1 before10:30 , then after 10:30 £3 with a Flyer or NUS, £5 w/o

“alicat, clare, and val (AKA 3 Bad sisters) + Adam playing their (un)usual mix of:cool indie, electropop, brit-pop, new wave, post punk, art rock, lo-fi, northern soul, alt-80’s and the odd disco toon….”

Plus POP QUIZ every 1st monday of the month before the club starts.
8 till 10pm. £1 to take part in the quiz (per person) and you’ll be able to stay for the club

This is my own little soiree.

CLUB DETAILS:
Next Date: Thur 18th MAY
Times: 9pm to 1am.
Club title: “The Beautiful and Damned”
Venue: The Boogaloo, 312 Archway Road, London N6 5AT. 020 8340 2928.
Tube: Highgate (Northern Line). Buses: 43, 134, 263.
“A new decadent disco curated by dysfunctional dandy DJ Dickon Edwards, with Miss Red. Patrons are encouraged to dress up in their own take on 1920s and 30s glamour, though anything more stylish than the ubiquitous Old Street fashions is welcome. Cigarillos, braces, tweeds, beads, silk scarves, unforgiving teddy bears… Drink, dance, and ponder the night’s tenderness to an eclectic but discerning mix of Sinatra, Strauss waltzes, soundtracks, musicals, El Records, deviant disco, shadowy soul, parvenu pop and insouciant indie. Free entry. Free cocktails for the best dressed of the night.

I’m standing for governmental election on May 4th. Oh yes! Well, if Adam Rickitt and Arnold Schwarzeneggar can do it, I don’t see why I can’t.

Specifically, The Green Party have asked me to be one of their candidates for local government this year: Haringey Council, Highgate Ward. I’ll be there on the ballot paper.

I promise to refrain from ever using the words ‘inappropriate’ or ‘error of judgement’ in official statements. That alone makes me pretty unique.

If nothing else, I want to generate a bit of publicity and visibility for the Green Party and for the local elections themselves, which tend to have a notoriously low turnout. Getting people to use their vote is something I do feel strongly about.

If you’re a UK citizen, please go to http://www.aboutmyvote.co.uk/, and enter your
postcode to see if there’s elections in your area this year. And if there are, please USE your vote on May 4th. If you’re not registered, get registered NOW. Download a registration form from the site, fill it in and send it off. No excuses.

The deadline for registering to vote in time for the May elections is March 13.