Recorded in a single day around the time of my birthday, but a decade or so before I was actually born, this is another 10" album that I inherited from my mum after she got of her record player. (Other family heirlooms include some shellac discs from my grandparents: I think there are some of Hitler's speeches — hmmm — as well as Churchill's in there, but I haven't fully investigated.) After I played Ken Colyer's Jazzmen last year, I bought my mum the CD version as a Christmas present. You might say that was a bit stingy, since she didn't wait until Christmas to give me the vinyl, and you would be right. That's not exactly the first time I've been guilty of filial ingratitude.
As with the previous disc, this one has both Richard Wallace's name and my mum's inside the cover. It hasn't, however, had its cover defaced by an infant(ile) David. Instead my mum, presumably to ward off light-fingered guests at parties, has written her address in a prominent position in the middle of the front cover — a bit like people do now with their wheelie bins — 61 Linden Gardens. In the midst of London's fashionable Notting Hill — though my mum might tell you it was cheap and not very fashionable back then. It was not yet a celebrated district featuring the mystic church of Van Morrison (aged 11), nor studio of Brian Eno (aged 8), now just a stone's throw away. (And, yes, lots of other landmarks linked to The Clash, reggae and even that Albarn fella, but Rockin' Around Britain
The most convenient way to listen to this music is via Last.fm (everything that's on New Orleans Joys is on The Studio Sessions part of The Complete Decca Session). Well, actually it's not that convenient as Last.fm have buggered around with their interface so that you have to do two clicks between each track (is that so that you see more advertising? if so, then how come subscribers, who are spared the ads, also have to do it?). But if you haven't got the record and a record player handy, that'll have to do. Somehow the music has more bite, though, when listening to the record — even through all that crackle (if there ever was an inner sleeve, my mum lost it). Some real classics here, especially Rock Island Line, possibly the first and last time that Mum's taste and John Peel's coincided. Though there was Extreme Noise Terror, too, I suppose.
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