Here, let me tell you a brief tale for 2002, an update of an old favourite. Say, for instance the tale of King Midas, the man who wished that everything he touched would turn into gold. Soon he realised that this was not the heaven sent blessing he initially presumed after turning his dog, his wife and worst of all his entire mini-bar into metal. Not to mention the logistical problems of going to the toilet. It did however take Midas a whole afternoon to recant his wish and go cap in hand back to the genie, or whatever wish granting deity had decided to play this trick on him (my mythology is a bit shaky – the TV show they used to teach us with at school had lousy bouzouki playing which drove me to booze).

Retell this tale these days however with everything King Midas touches turning into Gold – the much lauded album by the “clues in the name” artist Ryan Adams. Midas wouldn’t have it for more than a second. “Gold – by Ryan Adams”, he would say “why this is more than worthless”. Though he may pause in the tricky toilet situation alluded to above as when the bog roll turned to Gold – by Ryan Adams – it would have been uniquely suited to wiping his arse on.

Adams is a pasticheur of the worst sort. Its not just that his name is a bit like Bryan Adams, every single one of his tracks sound like someone else. And don’t say he steals from the best, sure a few of the tracks rip off The Who (=rubbish) , sure a couple more start like The Stones(=rubbisher), but when he opens his mouth he sounds nothing less than a latter day Roachford. All this for well over seventy minutes – Christ, most forms of torture invented by the Nazi’s didn’t last that long. Oh look, there’s a song about prostitues. There’s another about New York – what revolutionary topics for songs those are, not been done before. I understand he used to be in a band called Whiskeytown. Surely every second rate pub blues band in the world has been called Whiskeytown at some moment (between bing called Free Beer and Plus Support).

I can see that last years attempt at reigning back my hatred was misplaced. 2002 I am taking no prisoners. Ryan Adams, Bryan Adams, Victoria Adams – you are all the same to me.