stratocaster

[18] The Police, ‘Message In A Bottle’

“Sending out a nesso ess”. The lad really needed to sort out his diction. And that Jamaican accent was fooling no one – I mean, have you ever seen a whiter man? His only competition was, erm, Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers.

The most hated man in pop? Even Paul Weller – hardly Mr Popular himself – spat at a picture of Sting backstage at the Royal Albert Hall recently. Does he get a tough rap? There’s no doubting he’s conceited, but really everyone’s just jealous of Sting and his month-long mating rituals. And the zillion records sold. And the fact he still cuts a dashing figure in middle-age.

Of course, it’s possible that people simply hate his music but a) check out those zillion units and b) come on, some of it’s been smart. ‘Message In A Bottle’ was a monument from the minute it was released. Edgy, memorable, carrying universal appeal around in bags, it’s a classic pop moment in a year brimming with them. Like so many greats, it even has a massively clunky metaphor at its heart.

Junior wielded the plastic Stratocaster throughout, showing her credentials as a proto-Hendrix by imploring me to watch her playing it with her chin. Face it – you’re impressed just reading about it.

[2] Daft Punk, ‘Digital Love’

No one actually realised that we needed a reworking of ‘Video Killed The Radio Star’, but need it we did, and at this point in time these glossy disco-techno robot chiefs were the men to bring it to life. ‘Digital Love’ tickles the underbelly of naff, wraps it in fake-fur and plasters it with thousands of tiny mirrors. Yes, it’s a hugely uncool mirrorball of a dancefloor clearer, doing more for the synthesised electric guitar than any record since ABBA’s we-really-should-be-going-now farewell single ‘Under Attack’.

Junior’s mum and I are the biggest ‘Digital Love’ fans this side of Justice. Junior herself wasn’t so sure. This was played in my absence and I’m told that comments ranged, rather narrowly, from “Too loud, Mummy” via “Stop singing, Mummy” to “Stop dancing, Mummy”. On being told that a guitar solo was coming up, she replied “I don’t like guitar”. Anyone who’s seen her pulling Gary Moore faces while wielding the plastic Stratocaster will know that’s a blatant lie. Must have been one of those days.

[9] Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, ‘Whatever Happened To My Rock ‘N’ Roll (Punk Song)’

Good start, cool name. Terrific single too (their third, or thereabouts), that suggested a searing balls-out rock pedigree, all full-throttle rhythm and piled-on guitars. I first heard about them when Charlatan Tim Burgess was bigging up this record on some radio show, and it could almost pass for one of his own – with Rob Levon Been’s sub-Jagger sneer a ringer for Burgess’s Manc-turned-Yank lip-curl – albeit a little more cranked-up than your standard Charlatans blues-pop.

It flattered to deceive. ‘Spread Your Love’, their next foray into the UK Top 30, sounded like ‘Spirit In The Sky’ and tepid albums gave way to a grasp at serious cred with third long-player Howl, an nth-generation tilt at rootsy blues. Who needs it?

The tidal wave of gee-tar prompted Junior to sling on the plastic Strat and rumble along with BRMC. Finding the jarring piano button on her axe, she was then moved to delve into the toy box for the pink keyboard, and the ensuing cacophony had Junior 2 looking aghast. Pure-spun rock’n’roll. It sounded like some godawful mash-up – appropriate in 2001, when the world and his wife were at it.

Reminds me – I must be the only man alive who doesn’t own 2 Many DJs’ As Heard On Radio Soulwax. Or, entirely unrelated, Röyksopp’s Melody A.M. Or Damien Rice’s O. Or Nevermind.