OK…this is going to prove controversial so have your righteous indignation at the ready. For quite a long time I haven’t really liked going to rock festivals. In all honesty I haven’t really haven’t liked going to any kind of gigs at all.

I thought about this as I watched these poor deluded thousands who convinced themselves they were having a good time at Glastonbury. It’s not just festivals though, it’s so many live events. I know what you’re saying – I shouldn’t be saying this – but I’m afraid it’s true. I have to go to more gigs than I really would care for. Often it’s to see acts that I may or may not end up working with. occasionally I’ll see something remarkable but very often it’s roughly what I’d half expected it would be and very very often I know I’ve missed two good hours when I could have been watching re runs of Bilko.

As I write this an email has just popped into my in box inviting me to a a gig by an artist I admire a lot. Will I go? Will I cocoa. It’s in Edinburgh. It involves travel and parking and not having a drink as I have to drive and if I do have a drink I have to queue at a bar and I know very well (as my pal Gary Clark once correctly observed) there is a very nice rider in the dressing room which I am not getting access to. If you think this is being a little over fastidious you should know that I’ve been quoted I wouldn’t go to see David Bowie (an artist I hold in the highest of esteem) if he were playing free in the park across the road if there was something decent on the telly.

People often say to me to tell them if we’re doing a gig near their town. I never do. If you phoned me to tell me you were doing a gig in my town I’d be most annoyed. Going to gigs I want to go to is difficult enough. I’m not going to start going to gigs I don’t want to attend. Some naive person recently emailed me to encourage me to see his offspring playing…..I think not me old mate.

Why do you say all this, Rick old pal, I hear you mutter. You who likes Jonny Punter to shell out his hard earned drinking vouchers to buy tickets to see your own beloved rock n soul gatherings. It’s because I’m experiencing that nagging thing that got old St Paul into all sorts of soup – a conversion. Not, you understand, an undiluted desire to get my soles sticky in Nice n Sleazy, but definitely a stirring in the old shoes to move out of the door.

It happened a few months ago when I decided to go to see Kris Kristofferson. I realised that a) he was one of the greatest living song writers and b) There are gigs which can totally change your mind about everything you ever thought you knew.

So I am thinking – against all my better judgement – of going to T in the Park? Am I mad? Probably, but for once there are one or two acts I really want to see and doing the radio show every night means I now can’t see something even if I desperately want to. I really would like to see Al Green, but what’s the point if I have to leave early? The other reason I’m going to T in the Park (or thinking about it…I’ll probably change my mind) is I can take my daughter who is keen to go. My brother in law and I are planning to take the weans who will go off to see some ghastly band or other while we have a quiet beer and get ready for Brian Wilson.

Going to see Sir Brian made me review my line about gigs. He’s 65 now so I can’t imagine he’s going to be touring too much more so I think I need to make a bit of an effort. His show (and his brilliant band) are the main thing that made me change my mind. So when I look at the list of acts on at T in the Park I also note that Rufus Wainwright is playing and so are Arcade Fire……wait a minute this festival thing is good, you can see a lot of acts all in the one day. I know, I’m getting carried away again. I’ll let you know if I ever make it

This week in Scotland is National Refugee week. The theme is, Different Pasts, Shared Future. It’s a good title. People now live in Scotland who have come away from some horrible situations. Many are happy just to be alive and many more have left close friends and relatives who are still struggling to get themselves out of some very dangerous places.

I know all this because our pal Rachel was getting a choir together for the launch of the week. She was a little short on numbers so Lorraine agreed to join in. They helped launch the week last week at Kelvingrove Art Gallery here in Glasgow. Tonight at the Tron Theatre I’m heading down with our tribe to see their mum in action as the choir do a wee reprise of their set at the Tron theatre. We can’t wait. Lorraine’s been going around singing African songs for a week so we want to find out what happens when all the chanters get together.

Our pal Rachel runs a place called The Village Story Telling Centre. They encourage people to tell stories and share them. Knowing that I like a wee story they invited me to come and tell a few myself one night. Rachel’s the only person that’s ever said to me. “more stories less music,” so for that, I’m very grateful to her. It’s a great place and in the few years that Rachel’s been there it’s taken on a much bigger role in the life of the people of Pollok. If you’d like to find out more about them you can here.

http://www.thevillageonline.org.uk/

If you are in Scotland remember it’s refugee week. Remember that there are people who you may be passing every day who have amazing stories. Remember to that these stories will become our stories in generations to come. All countries are made up of people moving from one place to make a new life together. The best countries are places where all these people make it happen together.

Rachel’s centre is in a Church of Scotland building in Pollok. It reminds me of the old apocryphal tale of the preacher who arrived at a church event to speak under the heading, “Who is my neighbour?” Before he got a word in a man heckled from the back pew, “Why don’t you chap his door and ask him?” We could do a lot worse.

One of my old pals Jacqui wrote to me via the show yesterday. She suggested we play some Henry Thomas. Pleasing Jacqui and playing Henry Thomas is pushing at an open door with me.

I met a guy many years ago who told me the story of Henry Thomas. It seems that, well after he’d recorded the 22 songs or so which made up his catalogue, he’d been forgotten about. (as so many of the delta blues men were) years later two guys had gone down to the delta to make a documentary about the blues and realised that the busker they’d heard in some southern town must have been Henry Thomas.

There are many such stories. I’m reading a few others like that in Robert Gordon’s book, ‘It Came from Memphis.’ It tells the stories which run parallel to the famous Memphis names. It illustrates how the desire to reacquaint the modern world with the music of the delta led to some of the great music which we now associate with that Tennessee city. One of the stories I like a lot is about the first country blues festival which was put on to showcase many of these old blues performers. The venue they chose had been used a week earlier to host a Klu Klux Klan rally but the significant part of the story was that there were more people there to see the music. From these tensions grew the music we now love so dearly.

Sometimes people will wonder why we play such a broad selection of stuff on the lounge. I, however, only see connections. One of the great things I learned recently – and this is self evident from the recent album by Solomon Burke called Nashville – is that many African American artists knew an enormous amount about country music. The reason? In the 40s and 50s black radio stations were closed over the weekend and everyone spent Saturday nights gathered round the radio. What did they listen to? ……The Grand Old Opry.

Uh-huh. What is that? ‘Thanks very much,’ you say ‘Uh- huh,’ comes back the response.

You haven’t had it? Then you’ve have never been to the wonderful country that Borat calls U S and A. Because when in America you say, ‘There you go’ or ‘After you’ they will give you a uh-huh. It seems to me to mean -that I have recognised your kind gesture and recognise that many men such as yourself wouldn’t dream of holding that door open for me and I’d love to say all those things to you but I really cannae be arsed so I’ll just say…..uh-huh.

I love America…..the places, people and the music (could take a different president or two but in time they’ll go) but I have never got the uh-huh. I can see where it comes from but it belongs in the same recycle pile as the expression….’you’ve got an accent!’ You don’t know that one? Oh that will happen too my friend. You engage with one of the many lovely locals and you give your consonants an exrta rasp or use a little Scottish patois and they will stand back in shocked excitement and exclaim, “YOU’VE GOT AN ACCENT!” – Yes, yes I do and believe it or not there are millions of them out there. And what’s more, if you think I sound daft, wait till you meet my cousin who lives in Peterculter. (actually I don’t have any cousins in Peterculter but they’re not to know that.)

Having said all this the reason I’m on top of the uh-huh is that I was on a plane from Italy back to old Jocko land yesterday and as I said thank you to the geezer beside me for letting me past me and he quietly said…uh-huh. This guy wasn’t American – I don’t believe he looked Canadian either (whatever that might be). I think he was one of our European brothers and sisters and there he was, brazen as you like, boldly uh-huhing with the best of them. I tell you friends….and especially you US bloggers….let’s nip this in the bud. The huh stops here.

I noticed on our website that there was a rumour that Deacon Blue played at a big football wedding. Good story – but untrue. I was, as it happens, hanging with a footballer….but that’s another story.

I know where this story came from though. There was some discussion about this happening at one point so perhaps the legs and tails were added. Frankly, I don’t think we’d be much good at it anyway. For a start we don’t do any quick step and I can’t imagine what songs we’d have to do to provide a wedding waltz.

I did once get persuaded to play for a pal’s wedding. This was 1988 and we were taking the weekend off a recording session in LA so we could attend their nuptials up in Berkeley Ca. The night before my friend Wendy, the bride to be, suggested they had no music to come up the aisle to and, as there was an old joanna there, could I tinkle the ivories long enough for her dad to give her away. Sure, I said….not really giving it much thought….I’ll fo a bit of Tom Wait’s Tom Traubert (Wendy was an Ozzy) – that was meant to be played on a bad piano. So I’m sitting in the front row and about to make my way up to the stage and aim my fingers at a few familiar chords when Lorraine nudges me to give me an update. “Just to let you know,” she whispers conspiratorially, “that Bono, The Edge and Maria McKee have just arrived and are seated in the audience.” Whatever version of the Tom Waits I’d planned to play become a free jazz odyssey featuring chords that Tom has never put in even his darkest of songs.

There’s a theme running here I know and it’s this: The certain knowledge that the bigger the Lounge Blogger’s window of opportunity the more likely it is that he trips up on the carpet of hubris and goes crashing through it. Join me tonight in the lounge and feel free to share your own worst moments. We’re going to be playing one of the artists I mention (to show there are no hard feelings) and a lot of wonderful other things beside.

We’ve been getting some very nice mails from Nancy in Phoenix, Arizona. It sounds hot over there! Glasgow had a wee spell of summer over the last weekend and it felt great. Hey don’t get us wrong Nancy, I’m not talking 90 degrees, maybe 75 if we’re lucky, but warm enough for the Glaswegians who will start taking their clothes off at the first signs of summer.

It’s always interesting when the weather has been consistently good here. (i.e. a couple of days in a row) I noticed a few people in denial yesterday who were wearing very light T shirts who had clearly chosen to ignore the fact that it had all gone quite grey and cold outside. The people who drive convertibles are often the ones with the biggest problems with reality. You’ll get a sunny January day when it’s cold enough to freeze the paint off your front door and you¹ll see someone in a topless beemer cruising along the M8 with ten layers of clothing on. I suspect these drivers usually turn their radios up pretty loud when they eventually have to stop at traffic lights so they can drown out the level of ridicule aimed their way.

Of course Glaswegians clothing and outward appearance can often be very deceptive. I mentioned the Commonwealth Games inspectors the other day who might well be slightly confused at the high density of sportswear favoured by the natives. Last night I slowed down my car to let a jogger run past. When I looked at him closer I was a little worried that he was too old for this running lark. It was then that I noticed the fag in his hand and the bus pulling away which he’s just missed.

I know this may not be obvious from my ham-fisted attempts at being a DJ but……I love the radio. By that I mean all radio.

I have often bored one of my good pals who works in the upper echelons of the broadcasting world on my love of the radio. I usually say that there is no time of day or evening when I couldn’t tell you where I’d be on a radio dial. Here are some of my radio heroes: Derek Cooper, Richard Gordon, Jack DeManio, Humphrey Littleton, Nick Clark, John Peel, Jenny Murray, Fi Glover, Simon Mayo, Sandi Toksvig – I salute you all; but let’s not forget Iain Anderson. Master of all he surveys and easily the warmest, most welcoming voice you’ll hear on radio.

There are some great things on radio out there. I heard a lovely programme on Radio Scotland about gay people of different faiths reconciling their sexuality to their beliefs. The stories were moving and very honest. That’s the kind of thing you only catch if, by some chance you are twiddling the dial on a long journey. I also love Pick of The Week on Radio 4 where you hear snippets of great things that have passed you by. I often hear this on a Sunday when I’ve dropped my eldest daughter at the airport. This hour then leads to my big radio dilemma …I’m a huge fan of Brian Burnett’s Brand New Country. (it should be on more than once a week but that’s another issue) but I also love listening to my pal Billy Sloan’s Clyde show which plays at the same time. Billy plays a wide range of new things (I first heard and loved Franz Ferdinand there) and loved the fact that he is big upping The Hold Steady who I think are wonderful.

When I’m not in the car I usually listen to the radio in our kitchen. It’s there that the best news programme of all comes on every night at 5. PM presented by Eddie Mair is news as it was surely always meant to be. Witty, discerning, non ego-driven and concise. Very often the ex presenter of the programme, Hugh Sykess reports from the middle east in such a way that you feel as if you are standing on the dusty street with him. Genius. All this is made possible by the style of the main man Eddie Mair. And where, I hear you ask, does Eddie hail from?
…..Yes folks that golden city on the north bank of the silvery Tay – Dundee.

Possibly the best thing about music on the radio is hearing something for the first time you might well love for the rest of your life.

I imagine we all have these moments: What was that, who was that, can I hear it again? I have a few of these moments every week. Very often, these days, it’s because I hear something that’s been out for ages and I’ve just caught up with it. I was driving from Nashville to Memphis a few weeks ago and I heard Patty Loveless singing Howard Harlan’s ‘ Blame It On Your Heart.’

It’s a classic country song that makes you want to smile and sing and get on with your life. I think it probably came out quite a long time ago but due to my limited knowledge of country I’d only just heard it. It made me feel quite good when I discovered it was a massive hit.

The other great thing is when you hear something that you know your pals are going to love. My wife and I recently fell helplessly in love with Ryan Adam’s new single, ‘Two.” We got the chance to play it to some music-diggers who came round on Friday and it was lovely to see the smiles of approval on their faces. I guess that’s what you hope might happen when you play some new things on the radio. To this end I want you to hear some wonderful new things I’ve enjoyed recently. I hope to be playing new things by Midlake, Sufjan Stevens and Tobias Froberg. I’m also enjoying the new Rufus Wainwright album (something I couldn’t say since Poses.)

My producer Roslyn finds wee gems which surprise me too. We played Jamie Liddell and Candie Payne on the show in the last week then went home and bought them myself. Hey, that isn’t how payola’s meant to work!

Big news here is the Commonwealth Games inspectors have come to Glasgow to see whether we’re the place to hold the Commonwealth games. I don’t really pay a lot of attention to athletics and that kind of thing but it would be great if the games came to Glasgow. It’s always fun when these things happen where you live.

People in Glasgow still talk about the night Eintracht Frankfurt played Real Madrid for one of the greatest European Cup finals of all time. I still regret not getting a ticket for Real’s last triumphant visit in 2002.

Apparently there are 5 inspectors in Glasgow over the next few days. I like the idea of that. Maybe it will be like school inspections where the “headie” always tries to give the best impression and third year Christmas leavers are mysteriously sent on an outdoor ed project. My favourite story concerned the mythological school inspector visiting a Glasgow secondary history class. He decides to take over the show from the class teacher to see how much the customers really know. “Who was responsible for starting the First World War?” he asks of Thomas in the front row. “Wusnae me,” says the boy. This is ridiculous says the inspector to the bystanding class teacher. “ I know” says the teacher, “But I can vouch for the boy. It definitely wasn’t him.”

Perhaps the Commonwealth Games inspectors will do a bit of random questioning of the citizens of Glasgow: “And you young man, are you interested in sport?” one will ask in perfect broken English. Standing in front of him will be a youth clad from head to toe in sports gear and as the inspector looks round the city he finds to his amazement many such youths. Little groups of sport-mad kids gathering on every street corner. Surely they will think – “Glasgow’s so desperate for these games they’re already stripped for action!” Hey – it’s a done deal…how can they refuse?

That’s not to say that the declared aims of these events tie in entirely with the expectations of the customers. A few years ago Glasgow tried to hold an annual arts festival called Mayfest. Plays, concerts and exhibitions were held across the city. I always remember my brother in law, John , mentioning that Mayfest was happening to someone we both met in an pub one night. Much to our surprise they declared themselves as 100% behind the arts festival. “I love it.” And which particular art form was it that swung it for them? They had no doubt, “Pubs are open till 2 in the morning.”

Looking forward to hearing from some of you bloggers live on the show tonight. The running order has just been mailed over to me …….there are going to be many beautiful moments in tonight’s show. My fingers are already getting itchy. See you at 10.30.

Saturday 9th June

I’m chilling folks. My hands are steeped in cold water…fader fatigue. I have survived one week at Pacific Quay and so far the suits have not come to remove me from the building.
Thanks to you bloggers out there. Tony Currie is a BBC legend and his kind encouragement has been very helpful this week. Thanks too to Dougie and Calvin for your kind messages.

It’s good to get feedback from the show from the Iain Anderson listeners. Iain is another legend and I count myself as a huge fan. He has a great way of making you feel welcome and his programmes is rightly very popular with his loyal listeners. Needless to say this can also make a guy like me feel a little apprehensive, especially when we are changing the kind of music you are used to at that time of night. I do think that over the next few weeks you will get a chance to hear a lot of brilliant songs that you wouldn’t necessarily expect to hear within the same two hours.

Some people won’t like this but I hope those of you that do will stay with us. Personally I love the variety of rock n roll, r n b, reggae, big band, jazz, blues, trip hop, country that we’ve managed so far. Good music is good music I’m sure you’ll find. The other night we went from Annie Ross to Massive Attack. In the meantime I know Iain and the professor will be gathering you up a year’s worth of music to keep you going through the long winter.

Next week I’m taking my camera into the Lounge and I’ll give you all a glimpse of the nefarious characters that hang out in my late night den of iniquity. Keep on blogging baby.