The first night of the fair...

Of course, everyone has their favourite...

Today is the release date of the definitive collection of the recordings of The Smiths - from Rhino records.

Rhino make a more than compelling case for the swift purchase of this colossal box-set; undoubtedly it will be a huge success, will quickly sell-out, leaving hundreds of Smiths' completists crying into their luke-warm milk - no doubt allowing some unwell meaning, enterprising young capitalists the opportunity to extort these devotees with alarming alacrity...

Never mind.

The music is all that should ever matter, the format not.

I remember, when I was a clear broth of a boy, poorly limbed, eccentrically excessive - a box-bedroom rebel (Copyright, The South bank Show/Ray Galton and Alan Simpson). The Smiths very quickly became all the music I ever wanted/needed to have.

Here was a big galoot, with flowers in his hands and up his arse, surrounded by more vaguely dangerous boys from the South. I loved them - it was my music, nobody elses, written for me and only for me; I digested it with unreluctant abandon, wiggling my own culpable arse.

It will be John Peel's anniversary tomorrow. Without him, we would probably never have heard The Smiths or the legions of other bands his shows championed. I heard them on his show, head tucked dutifully under the blankets, breathlessly waiting to hear the next wondrous track from these most 'handsome,' of devils.

Thanks John and thanks to The Smiths.