After a muddy and murky start on Friday, Brian Wilson ended the first full day of this year's T In The Park festival by bringing the sunshine to Scotland. Not literally, but it's as close as we'd come so far.


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Within seven minutes of BBC1 picking up live coverage, Chris Rock gets in the first "C’mon motherfuckers". This shortly after David Gray and Damien Rice have murdered "Que Sera Sera", Snow Patrol have yelled, "Looking forward to Spinal Tap? We are!" and Geri Halliwell has walked onstage to say, "Isn‘t it great my band are back together?" While the eight concerts around the world constitute an immense, well-intended event, the Wembley show is a thoroughly surreal mish-mash of deafening hard rock, weightless aerobic pop and celebs spouting platitudes.


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To be honest, the success of Rilo Kiley has been pretty bewildering to me up 'til now. Much as I liked Jenny Lewis' country solo album, "Rabbit Fur Coat", I never grasped the appeal of her band. For all her likeable LA snarkiness, their music always sounded like a grey jangle; as if the American mainstream had embraced, what, The Sundays maybe, as the future of music. Quite strange, but in quite a dull way.


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Reeling somewhat from the news that Bob Dylan has permitted Mark Ronson to remix "Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I'll Go Mine)", it occurs to me that there's not much time to file a blog today. Here, instead, is what we've played today in the Uncut office -


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A morning for gentle music, this, after last night's Uncut birthday party where The Hold Steady played in our striking rooftop canteen. They were great, as you might imagine, barrelling through 30 minutes of songs (a fraught, euphoric "Stuck Between Stations" was my highlight) with all the gusto that, apparently, sent Glastonbury mad.


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A lot of slightly anxious looking at the weather forecast this morning. It's Uncut's tenth birthday party this evening, and The Hold Steady are meant to be playing on the roof of our building.


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Unlike some music journalists, I'm not hugely sentimental about where I come from. I've worked with people who've been pathologically loyal to the music that comes out of their hometowns, in a way which seemed to contradict their actual taste. Of course, the fact that the musical riches of North Nottinghamshire are pretty skimpy might have something to do with it.


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OK, I know this looks a bit pathetic, but Michael and Allan are off today and I've been too busy to put together a proper blog. So instead, here are the records that we've played in the Uncut office today: -


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No more quotes from Yeats landed in the comments box today, sadly, but there is a pretty interesting discussion about Super Furry Animals over by the "Hey Venus" blog.


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Just having a look through your recent comments while i wait for the troops to make it back from Glastonbury and Knowsley Hall. Thanks, as ever, for your comments; even Madison, who appears to have spammed the recent Richard And Linda Thompsonthread with a hunk of WB Yeats. Cheers for that.


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Editor's Letter

D'Angelo's "Black Messiah": some first thoughts


When Thom Yorke sneaked out his new solo album a few months back, I managed to hold out for 66 hours before writing a review of "Tomorrow's Modern Boxes". Since waking up...