The music writer and broadcaster’s musical memories take in road trips, brilliant record shops, carnival and falling in love
I am a music writer and radio broadcaster, so my travels are punctuated by record shop visits. Montreal is one of the finest cities for record shopping. I picked up this odd, amazing, remarkable album by Bongo Joe Coleman – a character who made his own kit from oil drums – at a now-defunct store on the outskirts of the city. On a pilgrimage there, I knocked on what looked like someone’s front door – pushchair and children’s shoes in the porch – expecting to be in the wrong place. Greeted by someone holding a beer, we were invited into a wood-panelled back room that smelled like dust and discovery, the walls plastered with posters and stacks of tapes on the windowsill and under the record bins. I left with a stack of gems, including this.