Bear with me a minute while I blow away a few of these cobwebs. Yeah, that’s better. Anyway, what I wanted to say is that I went yesterday to a screening of Martin Scorsese’s Shine a Light, his film of The Rolling Stones in concert at New York's Beacon Theatre.


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The Rock Against Racism manifesto at the time of the second of 1978's major anti-fascist festivals, held in September in Brockwell Park and featuring Elvis Costello and Aswad, called for: "Rebel music, street music. Music that breaks down people's fear of one another. Now music. Music that knows who the real enemy is. Rock against racism. Love music. Hate racism."


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I won’t after all be one of the 20,000 people who tonight will be at the O2 Arena for the much-anticipated Led Zeppelin reunion show. I had a ticket, but in the end gave it up to John Mulvey, who will now deservedly be there, along with uncut.co.uk news supremo, Farah Ishaq.


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We arrive what we think is early at Wembley Arena on Tuesday night for Babyshambles’ biggest headline show of their career, but are anyway still too late to see opening act Joe Lean And The Jing Jang Jong, who are ending their set with a petulant burst of feedback when we get there.


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It must have been an unusually quiet day, because we are not usually out and about when we should be working, nose to grindstone, shackled to the pleasurable daily graft of putting together Uncut.


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It must have been an unusually quiet day, because we are not usually out and about when we should be working, nose to grindstone, shackled to the pleasurable daily graft of putting together Uncut.


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I wasn’t able in the end to go to see The National at Shepherd’s Bush Empire last night, but Chris Robert’s nobly came off the sub’s bench to file this report.


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I’m standing at the bar of the swanky Indigo2 annexe to the O2 Arena when someone over the PA tells me to take my seat and stay there.


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Jimi Hendrix: Not Necessarily Stoned. . .But Beautiful

A few of us from the office went last night to the launch of the Jimi Hendrix Live At Monterey DVD and CD at the Hippodrome in Leicester Square, a swanky former nightclub now used for corporate events. I was last there for a party that followed IPC’s annual editorial awards, an event made especially memorable by a spectacular fall down a particularly steep flight of stairs, after which things become very vague, my memory of subsequent events – getting home, things like that – almost wholly non-existent.


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In February 1989, I find myself in Portland, Oregon, at the Pine Street Theatre, a venue that sounds somewhat grander than it actually is, which is not much fancier than a room above a bar where tonight I see Cowboy Junkies play for the first time.


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Editor's Letter

Dave Edmunds at 70! Happy birthday, boyo!


First of all, there was the somewhat staggering recent news that Captain Sensible was about to turn 60. Then a few weeks ago, Nick Lowe was 65. And today, it turns out, Dave Edmunds, Nick’s former best mate and partner in Rockpile...