Despite '2002 - A Hit Song's insistent chorus of "it's gonna be a hit, hit, hit!", by the end you're not convinced, "it's not gonna be a hit is it Free Designers?" "No� I'm afraid not Rum. To be honest it hasn't a hope in hell. Oh yeah we're bitter, of course we are, but, you know, when you're in the idiom of soft rock you can't get away with angst, you've got to maintain this 'pleasing' fa�ade, so that's why we sound so jolly, so 'up' on this song. But yeah, it's hard..." Yes, they may, as they sing, have "sealed it with a kiss" but the cracks show. And it's that that makes this song particularly memorable. It's fascinating to see the rips in their Peter Pan wonderland, a place where they usually spend their time flying kites, blowing bubbles, befriending dolphins. And so this palpable excitement you hear in their heady harmonies is not fuelled by a surefire optimism of success but by an almost delirious desperation, "hit, hit, hit, sure to be a hit, hit, hit, gonna make a hit, hit, hit" they sing, panting, shaking nervously, craving that big fix. The track is a flip-side to the Byrds' 'So You Wanna Be A Rock'N'Roll Star'. Both are bitter recipes for pop success but whereas the Byrds are pissed off that any talentless buffoon can follow their recipe to success get a hit, the Free Design are pissed that "We did all this last time, and it did not work!". I guess you have to suffer for your art, and maybe the Free Design were having too happy a time. Or maybe their hair didn't swing right or their pants weren't tight.

A great track, sung in spanish by Nancy Ames. It opens with pulsating horns, a wall of strings and an insistent latin beat. Everything quietens down in the middle, and Nancy sings accapella before the song explodes into action again. The way the brass, strings, flute, bossa guitar and fiery pop vocals are all crammed into two minutes is pretty cool. The whole thing is extremely catchy and intoxicating.

In 2004 this album, along with Spiced with Brasil, finally made it onto CD.

This is one of the great chase songs that I know. From the insistent piano-based beat you can imagine Apollo getting it on for Daphne, and putting her in the sky or something, which seems to have been de rigueur for Greek gods. Kayak played guitar-and-piano-based progressive pop/rock (without anything overly long) but didn't really come together until "Phantom of the Night" in 1979 (ignore the UBL ratings, they're way off the mark). "Ruthless Queen" and the title track are very pretty and overall the whole album is excellent.

My favorite track from the latest Goldfrapp LP.
The song takes AM-Radio sunshine pop and exposes the concept to English psychedelic folk at its most radioactive.
The resulting mutation is both sexy and ominous.
The groove is languid, but insistent.
The samples and the synths sound dusty/dirty.
The strings/guitars/harps brood luxuriously.
And then there is Allison's lovely/creepy voice/melody: all woozy sex appeal and little girl menace.
It sounds like that image from the film "Blue Velvet" - lovely summer lawn under which throbs thousands of huge bugs.
Wonderfully slurred....

Not quite as easy as I'd expect from A&C, having a more rocky almost Krautrock feel. An insistent bassline, nice harmonising vocals, shiny almost Can-like guitars, with these very, very nice pastoral breakdowns. Vaguely psychedlic almost.

A wickedly funky and twangy take on this classic Morricone theme. The beat is very cool - funky and surprisingly insistent, reminiscent of some of the best tracks on Howard Roberts's albums of the time on capitol. This track is from the interesting LP 'King Guitar', which also yields a Vinnie Bell-esque 'watery guitar' take on 'Sleepwalk' and a version of 'Tiny Bubbles' done in Latin boogaloo style.

I'm glad that I get the opportunity to be the first to recommend a Bunnymen track, especially since their early work, which I feel is far stronger than anything after "Porcupine," is unknown, primarily Stateside, to many.

"Heaven Up Here" is a car losing it's wheels at full speed while cornering on a high mountain pass. Will Sargeant's opening chick-chick-chicking on guitar gives way to a straight bassdrop, headlong into Pete DeFreitas' insistent pounding on drums, while Ian McColluch's yelps sound utterly desperate, claustrophobic, pleading and angry simultaneously. There's a pause in the careening during the bridge, just long enough for Ian to remind us that "We're all groovy, groovy people...we're okay, we're okay," before it all plunges straight down the cliffside, banging, exploding, scraping and finally, ending succinctly.

I don't ever recall hearing back then, and rarely today, such a beautifully cacophonic melding of swirling psychedelia and assaultive punk/pop. The guitars are cascades of shimmering shards of sound. Les Pattinson's coy, but effective bassline floats beneath the furious energy DeFreitas unleashes on his drumkit. "Mac the Mouth" may be the frontman, but I think this gem is DeFreitas' piece all the way.

After 20+ years of living with this album, and this song in particular, the pump, pump, pump of the bass drum still sends shivers up my spine. Don't overlook this album as a whole either!

My favourite House Of Love song, it's a mid-paced typically guitar-drenched track with an insistent percussive backing and that low ostinato guitar riff with the little flourish in it. It has lots of minor chords which give it a rather gloomy feel (like many of my favourite songs). Actually their later song "Feel", which was one of the '90s best, could be "Shake And Crawl" slowed almost to a literal crawl ...

This is Buffalo Tom's best single, off their last 90s studio album Sleepy Eyed(Big Red Letter Day was a better album). It opens with an unorthodox chord progression played on an alternate-tuned guitar that desperately wants to resolve but makes you wait for the cathartic chorus. The insistent nature of the chord progression in the verses is what hooked me and it still does just as much as the first time I heard it.

A slice of unbelievably sweet, lush electronica from Elegia. An insistent, original, clattery percussive line and the most enormous heart-rattling sub underlie a sparingly used, sweeping string riff and a vocal which you can't quite make out--I think that's to the good in this song, since Elegia are no Paul Simon--except in fragments. It's sung with strength and melancholy, perfectly structured and as moving as any six minutes I know.

Cathy Dennis' music is predominantly rubbish. As UK residents know, she is now the writer behind much of the teeny crap that fills the top 40 singles chart every week. But When Dreams Turn to Dust shines like a beacon amongst a fog of blandness. I bought the single for 50 pence from a charity shop in 2000. I thought I'd paid too much. I was wrong.

I was out of work at the time and looking for a job. Dennis' masterpiece is the sound of those crazy job-search days - there was a good two week period when I listened to this song continually. Hard times economically - even tougher times on the turntable...

The song has a king of warped Beatles/Byrds quality. And an amazing minor chord chorus. To top it all, she shifts the whole chorus up an octave in the final eight or so bars and kills the listener with a repetitive and insistent refrain.

Convinced by its majesty, I then bought one of her dance albums from a car boot sale for �1. Never has money been so well intentionally spent and inevitably wasted.