Martha's Harbour

Tonight is the last ever Top of the Pops. If you had told the sixteen year old version of me that one day in the future the show would be deemed obsolete by the BBC’s powers-that-be, my spotty young face would have guffawed and probably snarled, ‘Whatever!’ Top of the Pops was massive in my life and I longed for the end credits of Tomorrow’s World every Thursday so that I could immerse myself in (generally) heroes. That fact that I still have VHS tapes galore packed with clips of Lloyd Cole, The Smiths, Scritti Politti et al. is testament to my addiction. I doubt if I missed more than one or two shows between 1981 and 1985 and if I did there must have been a darned good reason. I loved the programme. Laughably, I recall no grey areas; I either adored a record or loathed it with a passion. Having chucked a list on here last time, I am reluctant to post a ‘Martin’s Top Ten Favourite Top of the Pops Moments’ but Japan doing Ghosts would feature as would anything by The Jam (Paul Weller wearing an apron as he sang Going Underground anyone?) and, certainly, Legs and Co. dancing to Orange Juice’s Rip It Up while simultaneously ripping up pieces of paper. Gosh, I’ve misted over. I will not be watching tonight’s show though.

A military operation took place yesterday morning as I logged on just before 9am in order to secure a quartet of tickets to see Sufjan Stevens in Amsterdam. The mission was successful and we are off in the middle of November to see, in my humble opinion, the world’s finest and most moving recording artist. I can’t remember looking forward to anything as much since, well, Top of the Pops circa 1984.