Music: prattle and drum

My musical eclecticism is borne of four things, interwoven: Rock City, Selectadisc, NME and John Peel.

Rock City is a Nottingham legend, one of my all-time favourite venues that for me will for evermore be associated with ear-splitting metal and snakebite-sticky floors.

Selectadisc was a Nottingham legend too; a chain of music shops that kickstarted my obsession with obscure twelve-inch picture discs and introduced me to the wonderful world of fanzines: the eighties version of blogs knocked out on the school Banda.

The NME was indispensable. Its mix of politics, uncouth reportage and downright bloody annoying reviews made music writing worth arguing about.

And John Peel's show brought me music that I wouldn't even dare to dream of. And frequently had nightmares about.

But over the years, I've gone from 14-hole Doc Martens to comfy slippers. I need to get back into the groove thang. Get to a few more gigs, find some great radio shows and pick up some instruments again.

I'm a drummer who never committed to a kit (though I still have a bodhrán), a uke player who can't tune it and a penny whistler that sounds like an asthmatic child who's swallowed something out of a Kinder Surprise.

So I'm going to find something percussive that doesn't involve buying a full kit, learn how to tune a uke and try to bluff my way onto a stage.

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