I couldn’t help but imagine Midlake to be made up of bearded Shamanic woodland-dwellers with a healthy interest in the occult and animal spirits. It’s partly the monk-hoods the guys wear on the cover of the latest Midlake album The Courage of Others and partly the dark, brooding nature of their music.

So it came as a bit of a shock when they addressed the audience at the Roundhouse in their cheery Texan voice, thanking us profusely for our applause and support. I was expecting maybe the odd grumbled “thanks”. It almost broke the mystical ambience their music creates.

But then as soon as they play again, the mood returns. Midlake sound timeless, a trait I often cite as positive. And they delivered several close-your-eyes-and-take-it-in spine tingling moments. I tried to imagine I was in the aforementioned Shamanic woodland spiritual place and this was the soundtrack. You can clearly hear the influence of British folk. Good for them. And also – to my surprise – Radiohead in their more soaring sonic moments.

Much like The Walkmen, to my mind The Felice Brothers are operating in the best bands in the world bracket, but without courting any great levels of popularity.

While I wish them every commercial success, in the meantime I get to watch one of the best outfits on the planet from the front row of small venues like The Troxy.

(I remember the disappointment I felt at Brixton Academy when Guy Garvey of Elbow boasted that soon they would be playing Wembley Arena. Cue the scramble to get an overpriced ticket to see your favourite band in a large and soulless venue.)

The Felice boys were always likely to appeal to people (like me) who love The Band, Bob Dylan, Americana, country and storytelling.

They all sing, they swap instruments, they look like they’ve slept in their clothes. But they’re much more than a modern-day incarnation of bands gone by. They’re writing some of the best songs and best lyrics in the business.

And live they were just great. Much younger than I expected and, especially in fiddle player Greg Farley, they mix their Catskill Mountains roots and traditional instruments with a modern, Streets of New York attitude.

I always like bands who look like they’re enjoying playing together, it’s infectious, and that’s definitely the case with the Felices.

First we got the train to Broadstairs.

I bought Wilfie a bucket and spade, which he used to eat sand.

And that was lots of fun. We spend the day on the beach then had fish and chips.

A couple of days later we thought we’d try a different beach, so this time we went to Camber Sands, near Rye. Here’s Wilfie enjoying the expanse of the sands and rubbing his belly.

Here he is chasing me around.

Later in the week we put Wilfie in the back pack and took him round Scotney Castle. They had National Trust volunteers in every room, but Wilfie helpfully pointed out all the main features, using his two-word vocabulary: “Door!” and “Upstairs”.

Then Holly and Ross, recently engaged (on a Harley in southern Spain, very cool), came down and we had a massive weekend knees-up. Here are the happy couple with May, Sam, Wilfie and mother Rita.

What a week! Why bother going to the Med?

I read somewhere that The Walkmen are like “The Strokes gone evil”. I like that description. Except The Walkmen are much better than The Strokes. God knows why they’re first on at Reading and Leeds this weekend. 

Last night was what they call a warm up gig. But there was no sense that they held anything back.

Hamilton Leithauser doesn’t just sing these songs, he launches everything he’s got into them. I don’t know how he maintains that for a tour without losing his voice.

Leithauser has the ability to convey real emotion. Before a song like The Rat you can see him preparing himself, summoning up the right strain of emotional energy. Then, one hand in his pocket, the other hand gripping the mike up high with the cord wrapped around it, he attacks the song. “YOU GOT A NERVE TO BE ASKING A FAVOUR…”

And I don’t know much about the technicalities of playing as a band, but I can tell that the Walkmen are a very, very good unit.

It was a wet and miserable evening last night in London, almost autumnal. Perfect.

Fairport Convention: Liege & Lief

Songs that sound they were written in about 1600 but made relevant for the modern era in 1969. One of my very favourite records.

AC/DC: Back in Black

Brian Johnson’s first outing after stepping into Bon Scott’s shoes as AC/DC’s helmsman. And what a triumph!

The Stone Roses: Second Coming

I remember the anticipation we felt at school in Manchester having waiting the five years from the Roses’ debut to their second album. Then I remember not understanding why people were disappointed. If you were a Led Zep fan, and I was and am, you’re gonna love this album.

John Coltrane: A Love Supreme

Coltrane. This just demands to be listened to, preferably sat in my knackered leather armchair with a glass of something in one hand and something to smoke in t’other.

Neil Young: Harvest

This album seems to have always been there – at school, at Uni, ever since. Almost everyone I know has a copy.

We cooked lamb and chicken, washed down with a polypin of Harvey’s Best straight from the brewery and a keg of Bullbeggar cider from Lamyatt in Somerset.

We managed to drain the Bullbeggar which sent everyone suitably loopy.

Here we are enjoying the sunshine in the garden.

My Mum (+ Pimm’s) sharing a joke with May and Wilfie.

Everyone’s kids seemed to have a great time playing in the garden. The oak tree proved a special hit with the boys.

Wilfie even had his first experience of motorbiking on Ben’s BMW RS1100. Suits him I think.

In the evening those of us remaining lit a bonfire which we sat around until it was very dark and we were very drunk. Sam tried to smoke a cigar the wrong way round (ow!), and we cooked the remainder of the lamb in the dark on the bonfire, which was in no way responsible for May’s poorly tummy the next day.

This photo was taken last week in the Italian Alps. That’s me second from the left with some of my oldest friends. We were on our way from Courmayeur to Chamonix on the Tour du Mont Blanc route. We’re a little spread out these days but we try to meet once a year to do a good walk and spend a few days in each others’ company.

Truth is, we’re not very good walkers, and we don’t really catch up all that much. We just joke about, play games to pass the time, laugh about stuff that isn’t funny to anyone else. We only go walking because it keeps us out of the pub for eight hours of each day.

As great as it is to return home to my wife and son, I always feel a pang of regret that I don’t see these people more. Still, we’re very lucky to have the opportunity to do stuff like this and to be just about healthy enough to get to the top of a big Italian hill. This time we were saying goodbye to Ray (far right) who is taking his family to live in Hong Kong. We gave him a good send off on the last night in Chamonix, but the less said about that the better.

Some more pics…

Frank Sinatra: Songs for Swingin’ Lovers

I’m playing this constantly at the moment as I drive to and from the train station in Kent. At the end of a hard day at the office, to get in the car and hear Frank and crank the volume up is a joyous, soul-cleansing thing.

Led Zeppelin: Led Zeppelin I

How stunning this must have sounded to the record buying public on its release in 1969. Dazed and Confused still blows me away every time I hear it. You could listen to Bonham’s drums alone and get excited.

The Felice Brothers: The Felice Brothers

Can’t wait to see the Felice boys when they play in London in September. I can’t think of many bands making records like this at the moment.

The Rolling Stones: Let It Bleed

The Stones at the peak of their powers and with Beggars Banquet and Exile part of the triumvirate of Stone records that you can’t do without.

Marc Cohn: Marc Cohn

I’ve got a soft spot for this Marc Cohn record. He’s known for Walking in Memphis but I love the stories of small-town America and being a sentimental soul I can’t fail to be moved by True Companion, his tale of a life-long love.

What a joy to go to a festival and then sleep in my own bed! The Hop Farm is down the road from me in Kent and it was Bob’s only UK date this year.

And it didn’t disappoint. In fact it was the best I’ve heard Bob Dylan sing for a number of years and his band were fantastic.

Flying back from a holiday in Portugal on Saturday morning, it was a rush to get to the Hop Farm to see the other bands on the line-up. I missed Laura Marling which was a real shame, caught some of Mumford & Sons and not much else, other than Bob, which was the reason I was there anyway.

There were some massive songs – Blind Willie McTell, Workingman’s Blues, Highway 61, Ballad of a Thin Man – that seemed perfect for a balmy and atmospheric Kent evening.

No Watchtower in the encore, but we did get treated to Forever Young which was beautiful. Inevitably Forever Young made me think of my son Wilfie and one day taking him to a festival, maybe even to see Bob Dylan one day.

The legendary Scottish blues singer Tam White has died aged 67, for me bringing memories of the night when Tam played the Hole in ‘t Wall pub in Bowness in the Lake District. I was working behind the bar with Mark and we had live music every weekend. I guess this was 1998.

Tam had huge charisma, and a great voice. Former Bad Company bassist Boz Burrell was playing with Tam that night, fuelled by a steady intake of double port and brandys which Mark and I gladly plied him with. We got to catch up with Boz and, being obsessed with the film Spinal Tap at the time, asked him whether it accurately reflected life on the road in a rock n’roll band.

“It’s too fuckin’ close for comfort mate,” was his response.

That night was all the more remarkable for the mysterious appearance of a black bluesman, a kind of travelling troubadour who walked into the pub singing and strumming on his loosely strung guitar.

He wasn’t on the bill and when we pressed him as to who he was he said:

“My name’s Running Water. I’m just passin’ through.”

Fair enough. He jammed with Tam for a bit and then stuck around after hours to sing some songs in the beer garden.

What a night, and great memories of Tam White!