My new novel, ‘What You Don’t Know’, was published this week and I’d like to thank everybody who came to the launch at Waterstones. The first ten minutes are above, including a rare chance to see my very talented editor Luke Brown introducing me. The second Bone & Cane novel is a standalone sequel. It’s about the war on drugs, at every level. There are several mysteries. Oh, and there’s a murder. Most people seem to think it’s the best thing I’ve written. Thanks to everyone who left the brilliant reviews on Amazon (and, please, keep them coming). I’d say more, only I’m just getting back to my desk after an over-extended bout of builders and am anxious to finish the third book in the sequence, which I hope to see published at some point in 2013.

SINCE leaving family band The Felice Brothers, Simone Felice has recorded with The Duke and the King, undergone a heart bypass and become a father. Life-changing stuff, and tonight’s triumphant show was both as dark and as affirmative as they come.

Kicking off with new album highlight New York Times, Felice took us on an intense journey that included a song for his daughter, classics from his old bands and a mighty trio of cover versions, the best of which was a delicate version of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here (with a few added lyrics).

The loudest applause of recognition came for a sublime Union Street and the lovely If You Ever Get Famous. Other highlights were a rousing version of new album opener Hey Bobby Ray, on which he played drums, and a terrific You and I Belong, one of three songs tonight dedicated to The Band’s legendary drummer, Levon Helm, who died last week. Simone grew up round the corner from The Band’s home, The Big Pink, and played with Helm several times, the last time just seven weeks ago. He spoke movingly about Levon’s influence, and passing the torch.

Washboard thin, hair slicked back, in a denim shirt, Felice is a charismatic frontman with a very classy band. Imposing, too. At one point, there was some talking in the far corner. Simone stopped speaking himself and stared the talkers down. The main set closed with an exuberant Radio Song, but he came back to play no less than four encores, including two more dedicated to Levon Helm,  Dylan’s Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door and, aided by The Duke & The King’s Simi Stone on violin and vocals, a version of Neil Young’s Helpless in which he included a verse of Amazing Grace.

Tremendous.

Levon Helm – When I Go Away

Simone Felice – Hey Bobby Ray

The Duke & The King – Union Street

I’m in the middle of a very busy time and my partner has jetlag from a conference abroad, so it took a bunch of very good reviews and word of mouth for us to give up our one free night to go and see ‘Mary Shelley’ at Nottingham Playhouse. I didn’t know Helen Edmundson‘s work and don’t have a strong interest in the Romantics,  but you don’t need to know anything about the period or the literature before going to see this terrific play. It’s absorbing and historically lucid in a manner that reminded me of Stoppard at his best. But rather than the huge cast you tend to get in Stoppard’s historical plays, this has just six actors, playing William Godwin (the excellent William Chubb, who I last saw playing the head in the first production of ‘The History Boys’) and his wife Mary Ann, plus Mary (Kristin Atherton, right in the still), her half-sister Fanny and step-sister, Jane. Oh and Percy Shelley, portrayed as being as irritating as Romantic poets usually come across, rather believably so. The performances are uniformly superb and the two and a half hours flew by. The play is about the freedom of ideas and where this can lead. It’s also about the dictatorship of debt, which is a timely theme. And it’s funny. There are enough complicated sexual relationships to fuel an entire soap opera and, while this play isn’t about Shelley’s Frankenstein or the writing of it, it does explain where the story came from (spoiler alert: it’s all about her free thinking father). So, that gives me an excuse to post another song by Aimee Mann.

A co-production with Shared Experience, ‘Mary Shelley’ plays in Nottingham for another fortnight before going on tour. There are even several two-for-one ticket nights still available. You’ll kick yourself if you miss it.

Aimee Mann – Frankenstein

Most mornings these days, I have a session on my exercise bike before breakfast – gets my metabolism going, stops my knees from seizing up and lets me catch up on radio programmes or podcasts I’ve missed. I sometimes watch TV shows, but rarely first thing in the morning: it just feels wrong somehow. Yesterday’s exercise bike listen also felt wrong, as it was all about people who work in the night.

Jarvis  Cocker hasn’t always been a national treasure. As a Sheffield born writer and Pulp fan, I wrote a letter defending him when The Guardian (and just about every other organ) condemned his mooning Michael Jackson at the Brits in 1996. This is now seen as the gesture that cemented his reputation as a plain-speaking, caring eccentric. The letter appeared, but predates their online archive. It’s not quite true that Pulp couldn’t get arrested when they first decided to split up. The fourth and final time I saw them they played to a huge crowd in Sherwood Forest. But they couldn’t sell many CDs. It’s good to see them back together, but they’re now only one aspect of all the stuff that Jarvis does, including the radio show mentioned above Wireless Nights, which runs on Thursday nights at half eleven on Radio Four.

He also has a solo career, of course, and the two solo gigs I saw were very good, even if his second solo album wasn’t. The other day, I came across a Jarvis solo track I’d not consciously heard before, from the soundtrack of Mike Bassett: England Manager (which I’ve seen, but I’m not sure the song is in the movie). It’s quite typical in its mordant, deadpan humour, and really rather good.

Jarvis Cocker – Everybody Loves The Underdog

Sorting through the unlistened to live recordings in my collection, I found a show from Jackie Leven, recorded in Essen, a year before he died. Jackie’s shows were as renowned for his storytelling as his singing, often laugh-out-loud funny, always in a thought provoking manner. Anyway, I spotted a description of this song introduction as being about Randy Newman, who I’m a huge fan of, but it’s also, as it turns out, about Joni Mitchell, who I’m an even bigger fan of. Not only that, but it features one of my all time favourite Joni Mitchell songs. So I figured I had to post it here and share it with the world. In my diary for four weeks ago is the rescheduled Jackie show at the Flowerpot in Derby, where I saw Jackie play twice, and it’s such a bummer that I won’t get to see him play, and talk, again. Still, we have the music, and the stories, and, coincidentally, Sue just came back from Sherwood with a bottle of what I happen to know was one of his favourite tipples, Co-op Les Jamelles Viognier. So tonight I’ll raise another glass in memory of the big man.

The story is below, with the Joni (from the wonderful ‘The Hissing of Summer Lawns’) and a classic Jackie song for good measure. Randy too.

Jackie Leven – Joni Mitchell & Randy Newman story

Jackie Leven – Walking in Argyll

Joni Mitchell – Shades Of Scarlet Conquering

Randy Newman – The Girls In My Life (Part 1)