Sir Tim's Top Ten

Charles Spencer

0 h yes, as dear old John Major used to say, this is the column read by the stars. Very considerably, in fact. It is true that I'm still awaiting Madonna's Top Ten (all her own records, I suspect) and Nicole Kidman has been strangely tardy about getting in touch, despite everything I have done to boost her once flagging career. But who needs crumpet when you've got the brains and charm of Sir Tim Rice?

It was once said of Andrew Lloyd Webber that he changes his lyricists as often as most men change their underpants. Rice was the first to find himself in the dirtylaundry basket. He has risen, phoenix-like, with his mega Broadway hits with Elton John, The Lion King and Aida, and is one of the few people I've encountered in showbiz who is also a thoroughly good egg. When it comes to the history of popular music, few, if any, can hold a candle to him and he also does a mean Elvis Presley impersonation.

So here, exclusively for Spectator readers, is Sir Tim Rice's Top Ten albums of all time, in no particular order, and with his own pithy comments attached.

Bridge Over Troubled Water — Simon and Garfunkel. Not a weak track nor naff song, but 'The Boxer' on its own is enough to make this essential.

Cosmo's Factoty — Creedence Clearwater Revival. John Fogerty doing everything brilliantly and thus annoying the rest of the band. But he was right to do so — 'Who'll Stop The Rain' and his barenaked 'Grapevine' the standouts of standouts.

Rock 'n' Roll No.2 — Elvis Presley. Even 'Old Shep' is bearable in this company. It's 1956, Elvis has only been going a few months and the sleeve screams 'Twelve of the Most Exciting Tracks El Has Ever Recorded'! Well 11 anyway.

Bringing It All Back Home — Bob Dylan. This or Highway 61? 'She Belongs To Me' and 'Love Minus Zero' just swing it. And 'Baby Blue' and 'Gates Of Eden' and ...

It's Everly Time — Everly Brothers. The first Warner Bros outing for the flawless pair. As ever they sing and breathe as one with a slew of quality pops.

With the Beatles — The Beatles. Their second long-playing platter. Essential party/snagging fodder in the winter of 1963/64. Their early uncomplicated genius will outlive most of the White Album. What'd I Say — Ray Charles. Genius plus soul was the slogan. Quite right.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road — Elton John. Still growing on me after a quarter of a century. Horny back toads rather then lions.

LA Woman — The Doors. Jim Morrison's last hurrah. His body may have been declining fast but his mind was still hanging in there. And the backing was good too.

Phil Spector's Christmas Album, Even sounds good in July.

'Another 200 just missed the cut,' adds Tim. Perhaps the most obscure is I Love You This Much by Jefferson (1973), the former Rockin' Berries lead singer. And I should have squeezed in Bowie, Rox-s,,,, Floyd, Dean Martin . , .

The other Top Ten this week comes from Fraser Bailey, 36, who despite his youth believes that the period May 1966 to May 1967 is one of unparalleled pop wonder. But he thought it might be helpful to bring us old farts up to speed with this excellent Recent but Decent list from the last 20 years. Over to you, Fraser.

Murmur — REM. 'Who are they? What are they saying?' we asked. This first record, slightly weird but very accessible, may still be their best.

Stop Making Sense — Talking Heads. A soundtrack LP that distills the genius of this endlessly entertaining and knowing New York band, Substance — New Order. A kind of 'bestof' from the band that bestrode Eighties Britain like gods.

Bossanova — Pixies. All the Pixies' LPs were slab after slab of melodic roar. I think this one is my favourite.

Pills 'n' Thrills and Bellyaches — Happy Mondays. The giddy heights of Madchester mayhem captured in ten fantastic songs.

Blue Lines — Massive Attack. Who'd have thought the Nineties would start in Bristol? A genuinely original trip-hop manifesto.

Unplugged in New York — Nirvana. A double album of beautiful songs reduced to their essence, sung by one of the great rock voices.

See You on the Other Side — Mercury Rev. Huge melodies emerge from a thrilling cacophany created by one of the world's most inventive bands.

Different Class — Pulp. One tumultuous classic after another. Written by the best British lyricist since Noel Coward [ahem, perhaps Tim Rice will have something to say about that].

Mule Variations — Tom Waits. Smart, funny, moving, abrasive, melodic — the man can do everything. And on this record, along with his wife Kathleen Brennan and a great collection of musicians, he does it all to perfection.

Charles Spencer is theatre critic of the Daily Telegraph. Next month: Getting totally folked up, Email: Chasnicked@talk21.com.