I have been watching the superb football based TV comedy ‘Ted Lasso’ this past week and have been loving it so much that I am already more than half way through all three seasons. As with all the best series, there are certain characters who are so well acted, written and realized that they become larger than life favourites unintentionally evolving to be central to the show. In this case it has been the character of Roy Kent, depicted on this months cover image in football sticker form, a man so obviously based on real life former football now TV pundit Roy Keane. The parallels between the two are hardly subtle, from references to Roy being a former champions league winner, a ruthless competitor and on-field tough guy, right up to his transition into media work and the reputation he forged there as a straight talker with an aggressive dislike of weak excuses and flannel. They even give a nod to the real life Roy’s recent preference for extreme changes in beard length.

The reason so many people love the real Roy Keane, even those who never supported his teams or in rarer instances those with no interest in football, is because someone so straight forward in their assessments and opinions as well as a TV voice with such reliable unflowery honesty is a rare thing. Roy’s head seems completely unturned by so many modern day evolutions, not just in sport but in society too, and his criticism of large chunks of the middle class football crowd, even at his beloved Manchester United, as well as the unwelcome commercial distractions inflicted upon the modern footballer have always made him a loan voice of common sense amid a sea of “best league in the world” hype and propaganda. Despite this, there has always remained the suspicion that underneath that sharp exterior lies a man with a heart of gold who only wants to inspire the best out of the people around him and have those he comments on to aspire to be all they can be. It is that side of the man that the Roy Kent character has cleverly tapped in to. In fact the quote on the badge (above) comes directly from a scene in ‘Ted Lasso’ where Roy kindness bombs a recently divorced character re-entering the dating scene for saying the guy she had begun seeing, who Roy felt an instant distaste for, was “fine”.

Of course in real life social interaction we rarely speak with such candor to anyone other than those we are closest to. I found myself in a social situation this past month, sat in a village hall alongside people I had only recently met and may never, or rarely, see again. We were taking part in a quiz, sat politely at a trestle table drinking the beer and wine everyone had to bring along themselves because the venue did not have a bar. A question about music came into play accompanied by an audio clip of The Beatles ‘Yellow Submarine’. Of course everyone at our table knew who it was and in that lull between questions a lady, who I had probably spoken no more than twelve words to at that stage and carried herself with an air of authority, leant over to her father and said “I always thought the Beatles were very overrated”.

Apparently that is the thing that triggers me nowadays because without missing a beat, ignoring the fact that she was not even speaking directly to me, I gatecrashed the conversation with a firm “that’s bollocks!” Now, I have said in the past that anyone who tries to argue that the Beatles were not any good gets a line put through their name in my head as I subconsciously file them away in a compartment labelled ‘not worth talking to about music’. The ladies response to my little explosion was to solicit her father for support but to his credit he simply said “no The Beatles were great songwriters”. So she turned back to me, asking that I name my five favourite Beatles songs. However, by then the next question of the quiz was being read out and I waved the enquiry away, implying I would come back to it later. On a second attempt to re-engage me I pushed the offer away again, saying we did not need to discuss things further; turns out my in-brain filing system had already been doing its work.

There is probably an inner Roy Keane in all of us, coaxed out of hiding by whatever the individual holds close to their heart. I used to argue with people about music a lot thirty years ago but age mellows you and eventually you accept that no one else sharing your exact same taste is a positive thing, not to mention very normal. But people publicly announcing that the Beatles are overrated? You cannot let that shit go unchallenged. I hope you enjoy this months playlist but clearly, I could not care less if you hate it…

This months front cover image appeared on the front page of The Guardian a couple of days ago. It features a group of Kate Bush fans in Folkestone dancing to ‘Wuthering Heights’, dressed in homage to the artist as she appeared in the 1978 video for the hit single, on the occasion of Kate’s 65^th birthday. I love the joy on their faces and the fact that this was such an open, public celebration. The idea that a few passers by might have had an interest in Kate Bush sparked up (“you know her, she did the ‘Stranger Things’ music”) can only be a good thing. Any time I hear music I love forcing its way into a public space or into the mainstream consciousness I feel the universe is moving in the right direction. Equally, I feel we are on a terminable slide into mediocrity when I hear EDM blasting out of a passing car or I am assaulted with auto-tune-hell muzak in a high street shop.

There is something so personal about music that ensures it is a very unusual occurrence for someone to play me something and I instantly offer approval or ‘feel it’ like they do. Friends over the years have noticed me playlisting or listening to an artist only to comment “you said you didn’t like them when I played them to you”. It seems for music to truly speak to me (I accept I am far from being alone in this) I have to find my own way to it, that way it somehow feels like my own. I found this over the past month when staying with a family of folk music aficionados who spent the whole time bombarding me with relentless Paul Brady and Jackson Browne. I have been aware of both over the years without ever getting into them but the unchosen, daily exposure did not work. Far too much brow-furrowed reverence to guitar technique and craft and way too little feeling for me, in fact it made we want to reach for the nearest, trashiest, fuzziest Rock album I could lay my hands on to relieve the tedium… and I am a massive fan of Folk and singer-songwriters!

Maybe the day will come when I find my way to both these hugely respected artists and they will suddenly click with me. I wondered if the problem is me and I am missing something so did some internet research (it obviously is me, both artists seem to command massive critical acclaim and respect) which uncovered the little nugget of information that Paul Brady appeared in the film ‘Charlie Is My Darling’ stood outside a theatre in Ireland in 1965, waiting for a Rolling Stones performance. I had recorded the film off the TV recently but not got around to watching it so gave it a viewing. What a film! The best I have ever seen about the Stones. Originally intended for release in 1966, it actually only surfaced in a restored format just over ten years ago but it is already up there with classic music documentary films like ‘Don’t Look Back’ or ‘Jazz On A Summer’s Day’. The thrill of seeing the Stones in such up-close, unfiltered clarity in their early years; the deranged energy their live performance provokes in the crowd (who kill one performance with a stage invasion); watching an iconic looking Brian Jones plugging in and unleashing such atom-splitting riffs on his electric guitar; Mick and Keith lovingly jamming on some of The Beatles most recent material in an Irish dressing room, it all makes for the most riveting time capsule that I thoroughly recommend checking out.

Anyway back to the top, this months playlist kicks off with some classic Kate Bush and then unfolds with a fair representation of the music that’s excited me over the past four weeks; no Paul Brady, Jackson Browne or even any Rolling Stones for that matter. In fact, if you’re anything like me, if you listen to it at all you probably won’t even like that much of it but rather use something found within as a prompt to head off in your own direction and uncover the music that speaks to you. That is, after all, how all record collecting and music discovery should work. Finding your own taste, not adopting someone else’s, that’s the way forward…