Of all the celebrities featured in the Jukebox since it began, Brigitte Bardot must surely be one with the most songs written about her. So much so, I've no chance of squeezing them all into one post.
It's ironic then that I know very little about Bardot beyond her iconography. Despite being quite the cinephile in my younger days, I'm not even sure I've ever seen one of her films. Clearly I need a crash course in Bardot. Let's see what I can learn from her many, many fans...
Let's start with another Wild Thing - Mr. Chip Taylor. He usually knows what he's talking about...
And the moving pictures move in sexy ways
These days
Son, lay low
Don't go...
To see Bardot
If I heed Chip's warning, this post won't go any further.
I feel like I spend more time in these countdowns justifying my choices than actually talking about the records themselves. And here we are again...
1. Half Man Half Biscuit - All Asimov and No Fresh Air
I mean, what does it say about me that my favourite record of the year is one that starts like this...?
Horror Clowns are dickheads
You know it’s true
And if you’ve got a phobia of them
You’re a dickhead too
Chainsaw-wielding evil freaks who chase you through the station
Or just some boring no-accounts with poor imagination
I spent a lot of time justifying the fact that I chose their last album, The Voltarol Years, as my favourite album of 2022 because there was a newfound maturity and sensitivity to Nigel Blackwell's songwriting that lifted the band one step beyond the "comedy post-punk" label they've been saddled with their whole career. And they they come back with this...
Mother Mary, meek and mild, got lost at Farmaggedon
Toe-to-toe with Pennywise she kicked his fuzzy head in
But the thing with HMHB is, even when they're going for the straightforward gags, there's a subtlety to Blackwell's wordplay that lifts their lyrics into pure poetry. Brian Bilston would do well to study the Blackwell canon, because although Brian's record was an immediate hit that soon paled... All Asimov & No Fresh Air is an album I initially thought was going to be a bit disappointing (high expectations again), but its appeal just kept growing.
Whenever I hear a news report of an avalanche involving British skiers
I listen in with interest in the hope that I might catch the name Ben Shephard
Layers, see. Like an onion. Not everything is obvious. The more you listen, the more it unveils new treats. Like the closing classic, Possible Side Effects, which starts with a typical HMHB celebrity assassination...
...I mean, come on - that was perfectly timed this year, wasn't it? But this song just gets better and better...
If I were a carpenter
I’d doubtless have a hammer
And I’d hammer in the morning
On the door of Alan Sugar
Alright mate, I’m just working on the property opposite, and I noticed you have a couple of slates that – oh, it’s you! Any road, I’ve got some tiles in the van if you want me to get up there. I’ve got a load of kiln-dried logs too if you’re interested. I’m thinking of sponsoring a gorilla at Bristol Zoo, what d’ya reckon? Do you need any face-cloths?
That's a comedy writing masterclass right there... but there's much more to it than that...
...because then it morphs into a love song, using the 1964 TV adaptation of Robinson Crusoe as a metaphor for heartbreak. I've never seen it, but I still appreciate the reference.
I still love you, Lucy Anne
And I’m not a rock
Nor am I an island
Try to picture, if you can
Robert Hoffmann
Scanning the horizon
Genius is a term oft-overused, etc. etc. etc...
That's the thing about Blackwell though - he's got so many ideas, he's not content to limit them to one per tune. Take Rawlplugs Of Yesteryear (Breaking The States), a song that is quite literally about the history of rawlplugs...
In the 1960s the jute fibre was replaced by a thermoplastic device
An improvement, doubtless, though nowhere near as romantic
...but also about a band desperately trying to write themselves a hit that will make their name in the US...
Breakin’ the USA
Breakin’ the USA
You’ve gotta press the flesh and tour the country wide
Breakin’ the USA
Breakin’ the USA
You’ve gotta get those college radio jocks onside
Jocks onside
The two ideas really shouldn't co-exist in the same ditty... yet Nigel makes their synergy seem effortless.
And when he does stick to just one idea, the results can be very special indeed. Like pitching the best ITV detective show ever over a frantic Legend Of Xanadu backing track...
Now McCalliog is a poultryman who walks many a mile
And he also does some admin work for Devon CID
But admin work is wasted on a man who has the gift
Nail crooks in minutes with
McCalliog and His Hens
I could easily write about every song on this album, from the one that starts like this...
I don't know what it says about me that no other record as given me as much pleasure as this one in 2025. Perhaps I shouldn't care. I can't even pick a favourite track, but if you put a gun to my head, I'd probably choose the tale of the bloke who was made redundant and bought himself a ventriloquist's dummy that looked a bit like Pete Murphy. It even inspired me to write a comic strip, and I don't do much of that sort of thing anymore.
Happy New Year. I hope it's a better one than 2025, but as there'll be no new Half Man Half Biscuit album to console us, it's already looking like an uphill battle.
We're here. At last. The end of this nonsense. My top three albums of 2025.
At various points throughout the last couple of months, I considered naming each one of these my Album of the Year. They're each so different, there's no way to compare them... and choosing which one goes on top inevitably says more about me than it does about the record in question. Maybe the easiest thing to do would be to say they're all the top, in their own distinct way...
3. Panic Shack - Panic Shack
Panic Shack are four young women from Cardiff, and they sound like that on every song. There's a pop punk thing going on in the music, equal parts Ramones, Runaways and Donnas, with maybe a splash of Cerys, and not just because they're Welsh.
When I started this countdown with Wet Leg at #25 (although actually it turned out to be #26... so strictly speaking, Wet Leg didn't even make this list), I said how much I'd been looking forward to their second album... and how disappointed I was that it wasn't half as much fun as their debut.
The fun came when I discovered Panic Shack, who in their own way are covering similar lyrical ground to Rhian Teasdale... but with a lot more self-awareness and without the lack of a vague whiff of misandry that's begun to seep into the Wet Leg ouvre. And if you're going to name your song after a TV personality (Davina McCall?) at least do it for a valid reason.
I've no idea what it's like to be a young woman in the 21st Century, I can hardly even manage being a middle-aged man right now, but Panic Shack provide a witty and endearing peek into their lives. The issues of body positivity (or negativity) - stick thin vs. large boobs - crops up in a couple of tunes, leery blokes obviously get a look in, and the tragedy of jeans without pockets is obviously a huge issue. Whatever the subject though, Panic Shack always remember to make it fun. If only Wet Leg could have done that.
2. James McMurtry - The Black Dog And The Wandering Boy
So the reason I didn't want to make Panic Shack my album of the year was purely that it stank of Old Man Trying To Sound Hip. The next two records then are far more what you'd expect... both from artists who have previously topped a year end chart too. I don't think either of these albums is quite as good as their predecessor... but those records were career bests in my humble opinion, and it's very difficult to follow a career best with something even better, But - as discussed with Pulp - weight of expectation can be a killer.
Anyway, James McMurtry's latest. It's another cracker from the finest grizzled Americana storyteller or his generation... makes you wish he'd write a novel or two like his old man. He inhabits his characters so well, be they the jaded South Texas lawman who can't keep pace with modern times...
South Texas lawman, the work just ain't the same
Used to you could clock 'em good if they called you any names
Now he's up on charges for showin' 'em who's the boss
