Hollie Cook was in the final line-up of post-punk groundbreakers The Slits. When singer Ari Up died in 2010 and the group ended, there was a flurry of interest in Cook for a while. She supported The Stone Roses and appeared on Jools Holland’s Later.
The impact of great art is physical as much as it is psychological. I recall the first time I saw Perry Henzell’s 1972 film, The Harder They Come. I’d been in the pub and, as we did then with just four channels, slumped in front of the television to see what was on late on a Friday night.
The long, hot summer of 2025 has been something else, right? Hate rallies, creeping authoritarianism, a weird reluctance to discuss the extremity of the weather even as everyone scrambles to buy air conditioners...
But also a slightly delirious sense of fun as people get out and about in the sun – exemplified by the eruptions of joy of DJ AG’s spontaneous pavement sets featuring unknowns and megastars, broadcast online as a super-democratic antidote to all those videos of DJs alone or surrounded by too-cool-for-school party people.
I met Mark Stewart once. It was on a platform at Clapham Junction, I wouldn’t normally approach a famous person like that, but I felt I had to pay my respects. It turned out he was getting on my train – going down to Dorset to “visit his old Ma” – and we talked on and off down to Southampton. He was hilarious, half scholar and gentleman, half lively uncle at a family function loudly telling old-school “blue” jokes, all in the thickest West Country burr this side of The Wurzels.
MONDAY 30th JUNE 2025
“I think you’d better drive,” says Finetime, his face sallow, skull-sockets underscored by dark brown rings. He looks peaky.
“Why?” I enquire. Sweat nodules down my face, my body, everywhere. So saline-intense it leaves powdery white steaks.
“My eyes,” he replies, “They’re wobbling about.”
We pull over in Cannards Grave, a Somerset hamlet named for a thieving 17th century publican hanged here. Every third car passing contains battered detritus from the annual Worthy Farm pilgrimage.
When you’ve achieved the truly sublime, trying to recapture it can be bittersweet. Cymande, for the mere three years they existed in the early 1970s, were one of the very best bands on the planet: a unique mixture of Rasta spirituality and African-inspired percussion with Curtis Mayfield conscious funk plus a particularly British melancholy and melodic hooks for days. It got them a brief flush of fame in the US, but nothing at home and they broke up disillusioned, before being gradually revivified by getting sampled by the biggest names in hip hop.
VINYL OF THE MONTH
Buñuel Mansuetude (Skin Graft/Overdrive)
A reissue can be an aide-mémoire, a reminder that a record which has been off the radar for a while needs revisiting, that it deserves fresh attention.
I live in Brixton, south London. To get to the tube, I have to cross Windrush Square. Since 2021, I go past the Cherry Groce memorial, which honours the woman who was wrongfully shot by the Met in 1985, an event which sparked the riots I remember so well from 40 years ago. Amazingly enough, I have now seen her sister, Sutara Gayle AKA Lorna Gee, performing a gig theatre piece on the main stage at the Royal Court.
After the March 1969 UK release of the “Return of Django” single, prospective performers of the song could buy it transcribed as sheet music. On the record, the credit was “Upsetters.” For the sheet music, with its photo of a single person, the credit was “Lee Perry, leader of The Upsetters” (pictured below left). Close to a year on from becoming an independent operator, Perry was already singled-out as the music’s principal aspect. A Phil Spector analogue.