Yes, I'd forgotten Clive was a Palmer, so thank's for the prompt.

I received an interesting comment from my long-suffering father this evening. It's because of my father and his collection of very varied music and his willingness to listen to anything available that my own musical awareness seems to be fairly wide.

My father loved the opera, classical and jazz records I bought, and the pop and soul records. He loved The Dubliners' records - still does - and came with me to several of their concerts. He used to love scanning the radio dial and we often sat and listened to concerts of sitar music or other world music (as they call it now).

However (there was bound to be one of those), I mentioned earlier in the thread that I'd replaced my vinyl copies of The 5,000 Spirits and The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter. This evening, for auld lang syne, I played "Koeeaddi There" on my programme on Manx Radio (live streaming on Real Audio!!!).

When I was in the pub with my father this evening, he remarked on the track by the singer who was slightly out of tune all the way through - but he remembered it from my inflicting it on the family when our centre of entertainment was the old Dansette. Robin Williamson, of course, who I admit was actually no great shakes as a singer, and whom I prefer in company with Mike Heron, because by himself, I have to agree with my father!!

I probably put the cat amongst the pigeons when playing Country Joe & The Fish - their song, "Sweet Lorraine", turned up in a thread recently, and Phillippa from Scotland (I assume) was surprised that I was a fan of them. I'm not sure why. After listening to one of their rambling, contemplative pieces, I remarked to my parents that it was obviously about drugs. They were worried about how I would know!

They were generally very long-suffering about my taste in music, mainly because it was (and is) so eclectic. Actually, eclectic means choosing good things. I don't think I can really claim that. I'm quite willing to concede that some of the things I like have very few redeeming features.

But the thing my father hated beyond everything was "The Gift" by The Velvet Underground, despite John Cale's Welsh accent, and my father a keen student of the Welsh language.

This probably is a switch to the thread about "The World Turned Upside Down" by now. But thanks for raising the ISB, and it's so ironic when I've just got them on vinyl in the past two weeks.

Mish, lesh firrinys,

Bobby Bob