Olden but golden

The good and the shaming

Charles Spencer

The best-laid plans and all that. I settled down last weekend to bring you, as promised, a full report on Bob and Keef's teeth, the gnashers in question belonging to Bob Harris, the venerable Old Grey Whistle Test presenter with the spectacular, gleaming white overbite, and Keith Richards, whose blackened stumps in the early Seventies clearly inspired Shane MacGowan of the Pogues to a lifetime of diligent dental neglect.

The interview between Bob and a very stoned Keef, fondly remembered from my youth, is one of the promised attractions on the new double Old Grey Whistle Test DVD, containing almost five hours of archive performances and interviews from the BBC's Seventies rock show. I settled down in greedy anticipation of a feast of Little Feat, Emmylou Harris, Dr Feelgood, Roxy Music, Bob Marley and countless others, only to find I couldn't get our new DVD player to work.

My manly response to technological crises is to burst into tears and get my wife to fix it. It took two Al Green albums and six cigarettes in my study armchair to calm down, while Nicki battled bravely on downstairs. Finally, even she admitted defeat.

So I'm handing over most of the column this week to Jan Boucek, one of the many Spectator readers from all over the world who have emailed about 'Olden but golden' (apologies, by the way, to those I haven't replied to yet. I'll get there in the end). Jan came up with several ideas for the column, including the winning, Nick Hornbyish wheeze of inviting readers to name their Top Ten all-time favourite albums. Apart from being the kind of exercise most middle-aged men — and I haven't received a single email from a woman yet — find irresistible, it strikes me as a great way of bringing a large number of possibly unfamiliar records to readers' attention, as well as offering points of entry for further exploration into artists and genres. At my suggestion Jan kicked off with a couple of very well-known albums, so readers would know where he was coming from, so it's actually a Top Twelve, and added his own mini-reviews. Over to you, Jan.

Rolling Stones — Let It Bleed (1969). The best rock album of all time, from the greatest rock'n'roll band at its peak. Fleetwood Mac — Rumours (1977). Oh, so popular at the time but for a reason — there's not a bad track on the album.

Traffic — Traffic (1968). About the only psychedelic band of the Sixties that still works today.

New Riders of the Purple Sage — eponymous first album (1971). Takes the Byrds' Sweetheart of the Rodeo to its logical conclusion.

Traveling Wilburys — Handle with Care (1988). Veteran experts showing how it's done, quick and easy. George Harrison RIP.

Grateful Dead — Workingman's Dead (1970). If you have to ask why it's here, then there's no point in further discussion.

Steely Dan — Can't Buy a Thrill (1972). Perfect intricate pop.

Brian Eno/John Cale — Wrong Way Up (1990). A one-off pop gem.

Squeeze — Some Fantastic Place (1993). Durable pop music by masters.

Ry Cooder — Bop Till You Drop (1979). Gateway to a whole new world.

Gene Clark and Carla Olson — So Rebellious a Lover (1987). The way chicks should sound.

John Hiatt — Perfectly Good Guitar (1993). What Elvis could have been if the army, Hollywood and Las Vegas hadn't gotten to him.

Jan said he left off the Beach Boys' Surfs Up and Buffalo Springfield Again — both sublime in my view — because I'd men tioned them in my first column. He's also done an equally excellent list of top ten live albums which I'm saving for a rainy day.

Thanks to Boucek, I've bought the New Riders debut (with Jerry Garcia brilliantly to the fore on pedal steel) and the gutsy, rootsy Clark/Olson collaboration. Both terrific. I'll bring you my Top Ten next month — I'm suffering delicious agonies with it — and invite you to submit your own. Impossible though it is, the limit of ten is manda tory. Put well-known albums in spots one and two, include live LPs if you want, and keep the comments pithy. I'd also like you to send in your Trio of Shame, consisting of records you love that the wiseacres tell us we ought to hate. Here are mine: Janis Joplin — I Got Dem 01' Kozmic Blues Again Mama! (1969). Generally regarded as the dud in the Joplin oeuvre. I adore the combination of her raw vocals and the schmaltzy arrangements.

The Best Disco Album in the World . . . Ever (1997). Need I say more. All those dire nights at Guildford's Cinderella Rock afellas .

More than a Feeling — 19 FM Classics (1999). Cheapo compilation, purchased at Woolworths, featuring bland, airbrushed American soft rock by the likes of Boston. Foreigner and Toto. Embarrassingly enjoyable.

Charles Spencer is theatre critic of the Daily Telegraph. Send Top Tens and Trios of Shame to Chasnicked@talk21.com or to him c/o The Spectator.