No Rock And Roll Fun

WHAT THE POP PAPERS SAY: Pre Glasto edition
Of course, any one of those definitive lists of anything is produced mainly to be a demonstration of stubboness and wrong-headness, and the Observer Music Monthly 100 Greatest British albums of all time really seizes the opportunity to make people shake their heads and tut. The Stone Roses is at number one - a handy measure of whereabouts the receeding hairlines and expanding waistlines of the Madchester generation have reached. Of course, Revolver is number two; London Calling at three. Further down the list there are, of course, surprises - three Roxy Music albums (although Phil Manazera was one of the judges), ABC's Lexicon of Love (Martin Fry had a polling card, too); four Smiths albums, riding the crest of the Morrissey revival (Mozzer was a judge, but he only nominated one album. Pentangle are in at 82 (Steve Davis wasn't on the panel). Cut - yes, The Slits, is in at 58. There's no room at all for Travis, and Coldplay barely scrape in (93, which suggests if it had been left six months they'd have slid beyond the barrier.) It's not as bad as some lists of its sort, and certainly the lower reaches are more refreshing than you'll find in, say, The Rolling Stone exercises of listmaking.

It's Glastonbury this weekend, which means one thing: an NME that assumes you'll be going. Athough, of course, with pretty much everything happening on BBC i this year, it's a lot more useful to have this sort of guide now than it has been in the past. The cover, though, is a bit of a fright - some awful photoshopped 'invasion of the giants' thing, only they appear to invading centre court rather than Glasto, and Paul Mccartney looks simple. (Although since he's meant to be following Liam into battle, maybe that makes some sort of sense). Apparently, by the way, we're now into the Third Summer of Love, although I don't think we've yet firmly established which of the seven previously nominated 'second summers of love' was the actual, genuine one. And let's get this out the way really quickly: there are cut out "comedy" beards, eyebrows and signs you can hold up. Other great ways of making yourself look like a fourteen year old twat include not shaving even although it would take a month for anyone to notice, and pooping in the back of the acoustic tent.

Before the mud, the digital, and NME's recent love-in with Napster continues to sway the coverage of the rightclickporiums of the downloading world. Thus, the launch of iTunes is headlined "Franz and Stripes Refuse To Sell Songs Through iTunes", rather than the more strictly accurate "iTunes launches before signing agreements with indie labels". Then there's a letter from someone called Suki complaining about the amount of space given to iTunes (when, you see, bricks and mortar indie stores are closing - we should pretend its not happening) - nary a word about the acres of Napster coverage, which has generally been a lot more positive than iTunes reports; Barney Simpson sends an email complaining how "some download services don't offer so much as Hotel Yorba or Take Me Out; someone else grumbles about the disparity in price. Obviously, there are lots of valid points here, but we wonder if the free sticker wrapped up with paper a couple of weeks ago had been an Apple rather than a cat with headphones, the coverage might have run in a different direction.

Peter Robinson takes on Simon Ratcliffe. Out of Basement Jaxx. He didn't know that Orbital were still going, and doesn't think it matters so much either way so long as the records still exist.

Radar tips five of the best new bands for Glasto: Goldie Lookin' Chain, The Duke Spirit, The Open, Chikinki, the Subways, if you're taking notes. The Kings of Leon pick the best way to enjoy the festival: Nathan suggests bringing wet wipes because "the toilet paper's horrible", which makes us wonder what festivals he's been to where there's toilet paper on offer. Morrissey - prepare yourself for this - hasn't played the festival for twenty-one years; Muse are looking forward to him, but Matt's pissed off they're playing at the same time as Orbital's "farewell" because the 'tal were one of his first ever live experiences. And Emily Eavis does the 'why I love' - and chooses... Oasis. They're so versatile, see: when they played in '94, they were "brilliant." In 1995, they were "just brilliant." Noel? "Noel is brilliant." And his relationship with Liam? "It's a brilliant act." So: Oasis are brilliant. Not a bunch of over-rated chancers who had one decent album which they've been living off ever since, as you may have thought.

Next week, of course, it's the reviews. Ten pounds to anyone who spots Emily Eavis saying Oasis were brilliant.

Reviews this week, though:
live
red hot chili peppers - murrayfield - "Brandy gets buried under all the soloing and anvil-on-the-testicles face-pulling"
isle of wight festival - "its BOWIE! Fucking David Bowie"
pj harvey - new york knitting factory - "the more diverse she gets, the more unified she sounds"

albums
razorlight - up all night - "more tunes than Franz, more spirit than the strokes", 8
lilys - lilys - "the most English-sounding record ever... from an American band", 6
goodie mob - one monkey don't stop no show - "banging beats, big noise, abundant wit", 7

singles
sotw - the open - just want to live - "It is big. It is impressive"
Mocky - how will I know you - "earnest jazz-funk"

And, finally, Jennifer Ellison tells Sneak about the lengths she'll go to protect her family. They oddly don't seem to include dropping her plastic gangster boyfriend, which seems a little bit like trying to save yourself from being stung on the cock without stopping pouring honey down your pants.