The View, 27 November 2010, Bethnal Green Working Men's Club, London, UK

On fire, as ever.

Secret gig held in the surprising venue of a proper working men's club. Only heard about the show on Wednesday, so we were lucky to get tickets.

It was a really fun evening. The band were wandering around in the crowd before their set and during the support band, which made it feel like a family party.

The set included quite a few songs from the new album which sounded pretty good – looking forward to hearing it. They also played great versions of songs off the first two albums.

Clearly a fan's gig, the atmosphere was relaxed and lively, as you'd hope and expect, with lots of ;'The View are on Fire' chants. They played for 1hr15m or so and really rocketed through it.

Love in the Asylum, 27 November 2010, Bethnal Green Working Men's Club, London, UK

Made us think of a British Vampire Weekend with some flavour of the Specials mashed in and a healthy dose of charm. Quite danceable and definitely worth another listen.

Set was acoustic-tinged, but apparently sound is usually harder edged. A couple of really fun songs, but whole set was pretty strong for a support band we'd not heard of before.

Review: Willard Grant Conspiracy, Luminaire, London UK, 23 November 2010

The band cooked up an evocative, experimental soundscape. Having known nothing about them and taken a punt after a run of luck at the Luminaire, it was good to have been on a fun voyage of discovery.

The first song was an exciting introduction, bring to mind a whole set of different gothic songs (Johnny Cash's Hurt, things by the Pixies, Mark Lanagan and J Mascis and Therapy's Diane and its b-side acoustic versions of Loose, Die Laughing and Screamager).

The song about the battle for the soul of a gym teacher (performed a cappela) was quite a standard out. The final song painted a whole world in minature from the perspective of a girl trapped down a well, with somber and spooking saw playing. The song had to be restarted after a string broke, but they managed to re-create the atmosphere, if not quite the spine tingling moment it felt they might be about to hit on the first run though.

Review: Benjamin Folke Thomas, Luminaire, London UK, 23 November 2010

Young folker with rock and roll sensibilities and stage presence and very skillful guitar fingerwork. He wore his influences proudly with lots of references from Dylan (Gates of Eden...) and the King James Bible. But it was pleasing to see these nods, rather than it sounding like a pastiche. And he showed potential for a lyrical style of his own with some wit, as shown on 'You and me baby, we're rhythm and blues; you've got the rhythm and I've got the blues' and 'She was happy anywhere; I wasn't happy anywhere' (with apologies for any misquoting).

Review: Chris Smither, Luminaire, London UK, 28 October 2010

‘Tom, can you take a bit of 650 out of the guitar?’ was Chris’s great request to the soundman. With one quick question he revealed an attention to detail and knowledge of his craft you rarely have a chance to experience. And that knowledge and care shone through in the performance.

He played country-blues style rhythmical finger-picking guitar with odd bits of slide guitar. If it wasn’t a reversal of chronology, I’d say quite a bit like Kelly-Joe Phelps. With just him and his guitar, he made enough sound for a whole band with a great driving rhythm throughout.

He told great long stories and had the crowd chuckling, giggling and then returning to hushed reverence. Having sat for the first set, we stood for the second set, which was mesmerising. He really drew us in and a cover of Visions of Johanna was majestic. A really great gig.

This was a last minute gig choice to fill the void left by Manic Street Preachers’ cancelling their Brixton show. We opted for it on the basis of the website describing Chris’s performance technique as ‘riveting’ and I wouldn’t quibble with that choice of words.

Why is Tuesday release day in the US?

I've never quite understood why albums are released in the US on Tuesdays when we can buy them in the UK the day before (and, given the time difference, five hours earlier than that). I assume it has to do with public holidays or deliveries or something. But it still doesn't quite make sense given the drama surrounding new releases.

The reason the issue is currently on mind is the new Darkness on the Edge of Town box set which hit the UK's streets today, but which comes out in the US tomorrow (well, later today really by the time this goes up).

I have, for once, decided to be sensible and wait before wallowing in a six-disc Bruce-a-thon. Rather than laying out £80 myself and then having to think of things to suggest for friends and family to give me at Christmas, I've decided to save myself and wait six weeks. I'm sure it'll be worth it, but would like to send my apologies for my sensibleness to anyone wishing they were in English shoes and able to see it all a day earlier.

To shuffle, or not to shuffle?

If you are a music owner, you might keep a neatly ordered, alphabetised and systematised, colour-coded and artist and genre-divided collection of CDs, vinyl, mp3s and tapes. If you are a music fan, you might have all of the above except that any semblence of order might have long ago given way to a pile of homeless CDs and the surprise of finding Bentley Rhythm Ace in a Boo Radleys' case. Because no doubt a moment of blinding clarity meant that you had to listen to Screamadelica immediately after some Sigur Ros.

However you keep your music, as likely as not, you will at some point keep some part of it with you as a 21st century talisman on your portable personal digital music player. A topic of debate between the Broken Biscuit Records is how you choose to carry your music with you. I am not asking about how you physically transport the music but what it is you choose to carry and most of all, how you listen to it.

This may come down in part to choice of gizmo and its capacity. But even if you are streaming audio on the go, two clear camps exist. There are those of us who carefully select our audio experience, a new album to be absorbed or a soundtrack to a particular experience. And there are those of us who squeeze as much as possible into a digital space and then listen to the whole lot at random.

Perhaps this says something about personality. I am an arch shuffler who is not always sure what music I actually own. I have been told I use my mp3 player as though I might as well be listening to the radio.

But boy, what a radio station. The pleasure of re-discovering a track you had forgotten is surely matched by encountering a new favourite song you never knew you owned. For shufflers like me, perhaps the greatest joy of all though comes from the mix the machine can create for you. That "oh yes" moment that throws together two unlikely but perfect musical neighbours, and brings a grin to your face, is what a really good shuffle is all about.

On the shuffle today:
Foals - What Remains (Total Life Forever); Bat For Lashes - Travelling Woman (Two Suns); Teenage Fanclub - Alcoholiday (Bandwangonesque).

Why won't people let you see what they're listening to?

People blast songs out of cars. They wear t-shirts with bands and albums emblazoned across them. They plaster bedrooms with posters advertising shows and albums. They even 'like' songs on Facebook, tweet about songs and share playlists on Spotify.

So why, in public, are people so careful to shield the screens of their iPods when flicking through songs? Is this unique to the tube? Is it like reading over someone's shoulder? Am I just being nosy?

Is there something more fundamental to this? Is the intensely personal experience of listening to music on headphones to much to share? Would having people know what you're listening to burst that bubble? Are we happy to share music when we're listening publicly, but very uncomfortable to have people easvesdrop on our private world?

Or is it just that people use the oportunity of secret listening, while imaging being in a music video, to wallow in truly embarassing tunes that they really wouldn't want anyone to know about?

Shouldn’t the best bands have the greatest greatest hits?

Ahead of Thursday’s gig, I decided to chuck some Manic Street Preachers tunes on my iPod. Not unreasonably, I thought, I selected the two most recent albums and their 2002 greatest hits compilation Forever Delayed.

However you look at it, that album serves the Manics first decade or so poorly. Design for Life and Motorcycle Emptiness are present and correct, and it’s good they found time to squeeze Motown Junk in, but the new songs (There by the Grace of God and Door to the River) hardly stand up to the other songs included or those they missed off.

This set me thinking about how well bands are served by hits compilations and whether this bears any relation to the quality of the band. I realise that it cannot be easy for one set of songs to serve as an introduction to casual fans and as a distillation of an obsessive’s favourite 20 songs. I know that greatest hits sets need to include previously unreleased material to entice long-term fans to buy them. And I am aware that such albums are often issued as the last album in a contract or during a creative lull.

But I’m not sure that any of that explains why some greatest hits can be perfect summaries for an obsessive fan and introductions for others at the same time. The Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ Greatest Hits does that, Bruce Springsteen’s Essential Collection arguably does, and the red and blue albums by The Beatles certainly do. We can haggle over one track’s inclusion over another, but these broadly do the job expected of them.

Even collections with new material can include songs strong enough to stand up alongside older songs. Bon Jovi’s 1994 collection Cross Road included Always and Someday I’ll be Saturday Night, both of which have stood the 16-year test of time well enough to be included on the bands new Greatest Hits collection, due out next week.

So what are the best greatest hits collections? Not in terms of the relative quality of the songs of one band versus another, but in terms of how well they distil and fairly represent a band’s output.

For me, it’s Pearl Jam’s Rearviewmirror, nudging ahead of Cross Road. Rearviewmirror basically contains all the songs that I would put together to introduce anyone to Pearl Jam. In fact, I think my selection would match up almost completely with that of whoever chose the songs for Rearviewmirror.

But maybe that’s just me. Maybe Rearviewmirror just passes a very personal test in a way that Forever Delayed might for someone else.

Anyway, here's Alan Partridge, his new stereo and his favourite Beatles album.

Review: Gaslight Anthem Thursday 21 October 2010, Hammersmith Apollo, London, UK

Good gig. First three songs really built one on top of the other in quite an impressive way. After five or so songs, they were joined by an extra guitarist and Brian praying harmonica, which suggests they’ll look to be expanding the band.

The band have come a long way from the Brighton gig we saw in Feb 2009. They’ve built an impressive big venue sound and stage craft without being too clichéd, although they’ve obviously been influenced by sharing stages with Bruce.

Although they were strong throughout and Brian is a charismatic frontman, there were still some songs that ome still really standing out (Queen of Lower Chelsea for one).

Brian mentioned first visiting London in 2005, stopping outside Hammersmith Apollo and saying they’d play it one day. Bandmate joked ‘maybe in 15 years’. He said ‘no, we’ll play it’.

The show was also very different from Brixton gig we saw in the summer. There were fewer crowd-launched clapping crucendos in the middle of songs and less wild over-reaction. The set was also quite different, with lots of strong songs held back.

The audience was strange, though. They talked through lots of the quieter songs. And a bit sad to see a band you love in a venue that big. Great they’re doing well, but you don’t get the same intimacy or feeling of intimacy. The pains of being an early fan!