The news that Lou Reed is going to be playing his brilliantly grim Berlin song cycle in its entirety at London’s Hammersmith Apollo in June reminds me of when he played what was then known as Hammersmith Odeon, in April 1979, a night that ended in some mayhem, with Lou smacking the proverbial fuck out of David Bowie. Lou was in London to promote his new album, The Bells, and was in a spectacularly cantankerous mood from the off. He kept the house lights up, to the discomfort of many, and in no uncertain terms announced that he wouldn’t be playing any of his classic songs, especially “Heroin”. If anyone was waiting for him to play the songs they’d been hoping to hear, he sneered, they could leave now – because he wasn’t in the mood for revisiting his back catalogue, of which he was anyway caustically dismissive. An increasingly restive audience sat through an hour of the new album, and a 45 minute version of The Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hanging On”, sung by his bass player Ellard “Moose” Boles, which drove most of the audience screaming into the night, cursing the money they’d wasted and spitting blood at Lou’s perverse moodiness. As soon as they were out of the theatre, Lou started a greatest hits set with a magnificent version of – yup! – “Heroin”. After the show, I was invited to a dinner Lou was hosting at a restaurant in Knightsbridge, where I found him at the head of a table, deep in conversation with David Bowie. The pair had famously fallen out a few years earlier, but now seemed to have made things up and were behaving like the greatest of pals. Until, that is, David said something to Lou that Lou reacted to by blowing up like a small but incredibly livid volcano. To everyone’s sudden shock and shaken amazement, Lou grabbed Bowie by the shirt front, hauled him across the table and started slapping him somewhat fiercely around the face, Bowie’s cheeks reddening dramatically and tears very quickly streaming down his face. “Don’t you EVER say that,” Lou howled, thwacking David several times more before they were separated. The silence that followed was grave, everyone afraid to say anything, much relief rushing through the room when Lou and David then embrace, kiss and make up amid much hugging. Things appear to have returned to what passes in this sort of company for normal, when Lou is at it, again, dragging Bowie back across the table and slapping him fairly senseless. Whatever David had said to ignite the original skirmish, he has rather foolishly repeated. “I told you NEVER to say that,” Lou screamed at Bowie, getting in a few more solid-looking punches before they are again separated and Lou, bug-eyed and struggling, was escorted from the restaurant. Bowie was now alone at the table, surrounded by culinary chaos, dinner plates overturned, that sort of thing. I thought I’d go over for a consoling word and did, also asking David what he actually said to Lou. This caused more major ructions, with Bowie now taking a pop at me, the pair of us tussling roughly before Bowie’s security people march me back to my table and Bowie leaves in a huff. “Goodnight, then, Thin White Duke,” I called after him, as he disappeared up a flight of stairs. There was a moment’s ominous silence and then a flower pot smashed into the wall at the foot of the stairs, just to the right of where I was sitting. Bit of a night, all round.

I got a message the other day from Erin Palmer, encouraging me to go and see Jandek at South By Southwest. Unfortunately, I've had to cancel my trip to Texas, so if anyone sees the Jandek show, please let us know. Erin, it transpires, is the daughter of Bruce Palmer, the giant bassist who drove down to LA with Neil Young in his hearse and went on to join Buffalo Springfield. Hearing from Erin (whose blog is at droppinthed.blogspot.com, incidentally) reminded me of a great record I haven't played in a while: her father's solo album, "Cycle Is Complete". It's weird, given Palmer's history, that "Cycle Is Complete" isn't better known, but it's a pretty out-there record - kind of long, frayed psychedelic jams that have a striking affinity with some of the looser new free-folk troupes like Sunburned Hand Of The Man. Check it out. I also picked up an email from Charlie, who runs the terrific Elliott Smith site, Sweet Adeline. I will try and write some more about "New Moon" when I get a chance - I'm aware my post was a bit sketchy. But unfortunately, hardly any watermarked copies of the disc are out there at the moment, so I've had to pass mine on to a reviewer. When I get another, I'll post a follow-up. I'm actually away from my desk for a day or two, and more importantly, away from my pile of new releases, so Wild Mercury Sound may be rather erratic this week. One old thing I've turned to this weekend is the first album by Bill Fay, especially "Be Not So Fearful" (I can't remember if it's actually on the original pressing, but it's certainly included on the Eclectic CD reissue). Wilco played that song a few times live, and there's been talk for a while of them backing Fay on his first recordings for decades - though both Bill and Jeff Tweedy seem anxious not to impose on the other, from the conversations I've had with them. I can't recommend Fay's three albums highly enough; I think my colleague Rob Young called him the missing link between Dylan, Nick Drake and Scott Walker, which makes sense to me.

I am risen, Lazarus-like, from a couple of weeks in flu-ravaged purgatory, a desperate condition accompanied by much attendant chest-rattling coughing and colourful spluttering. So apologies for my recent absence here. What passes for normal service will hopefully resume next week, with a return to the daily blogs as advertised at the top of this page. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXZM3pq045Q

As I mentioned yesterday, Wild Mercury Sound is taking a holiday in Texas next week. The pile of new albums will have to wait a while; I've got fine things by Rufus Wainwright, Battles, The 1990s and Alberta Cross here that I haven't had time to write about yet. Next week, though, I'll be filing slightly frantic daily reports from the South By Southwest festival in Austin, as I try and see a good dozen or so newish bands a day. I've just been having a quick look through the list of artists playing, and I really want to check all these out, for a start. Tempting as a band called Psychedelic Horseshit might be, there's a lot of certifiably good psych on at SXSW this year: people who figured on Uncut's "Comets, Ghosts And Sunburned Hands" comp like Entrance and Sunburned Hand Of The Man themselves; some who didn't quite make the cut for that one, like MV + EE With The Bummer Road and Charalambides; legions of Devendra-affiliated acid-folk singers, the most interesting of whom may turn out to be Jana Hunter. A lot of heavier stuff looks good, too, with an outside show featuring Mastodon and Boris being especially tempting. I've been tipped off about a band called Lesbian (not to be mixed up with Lesbians On Ecstasy, who are also playing), who I think might be some kind of stoner metal thing. They're all blokes, incidentally. There also seems to be a resurgence of hardcore this year, thanks to the fantastic Fucked Up and Britain's own Gallows, who are shaping up already to be one of the buzz bands of the week. What else? I'm looking forward to some good Americana from Jenny Lewis associates The Watson Twins, from Brooklyn Cosmic American types Oakley Hall (very excited about finally seeing them) and from a solo Jason Isbell, the strongest of Drive-By Truckers' three great frontmen. I also want to catch Brazilian Baile funk party band Bonde Du Role, LA lo-fi pop maven Ariel Pink, Beirut (who'll be one of dozens of new Arcade Fires, I'll wager). And of course Jandek, the mysterious Texan who has intrigued underground music fans for years. Let me know about anything good, and I'll try and check it out. See you there, maybe?