Twenty Years Of Treasures

Like melancholy before slumber under the covers in candlelight.

My favourite country record and my favourite live record. Saturday night sorted.

My favourite Bossa Nova album. Otherworldly. I’ve never heard another record quite like it.

Gorgeous 70s acoustic folk by husband and wife duo that created a masterpiece before separation.

Melancholy masterpiece, changes your chemistry.

Autumnal dusk on the highway, peace and melancholy, longing and grief. Exquisite.

One of the great collab albums, up there with Nancy & Lee.

My favourite punk record.

2017 soundtrack to a heartbreaking independent 80s romance film that should have been made.

This album could have been called Spirit Box, I swear it’s haunted.

You found a cassette tape on Route 66 that fell out of a punks car at the service station.

If the Never Ending Story was set in a nightclub.

A ballet on Venus at midnight.

The sound of having it all figured out for 40 minutes.

Lose yourself in the crashing of ocean waves on a grey rainy day.

Sundown on Planet Italy, 1974.

Leave it on all day if you feel disconnected.

Night markets on a cool night in Brazil.

Post Sunday School disillusioned 70s folk with harmonies that will make you believe in the power of harmonies again.

Start here, or try again some other time.

Past beliefs melt at dawn, eagerly awaiting your first espresso and a new day of lighter steps.

A blistering wall of melodic guitar hooks and languid vocals that pull at the heartstrings.

Heaven.

Waking up from anaesthesia in a field of daises.

A soundtrack for surviving suburbia.

Sounds like 1989 Syd Barrett with a Rickenbacker covering 1966 Dylan with 1967 George Martin strings.

Soundtrack for a storm warning.

The blisteringly beautiful sound of surrendering to the chaos.

You’re discretely in the corner for an hour on discovering your friend at a piano in an empty room in the theatre after the show, playing the finest wistful songs you’ve ever heard.

The last great record of the 80s.

Nashville Skyline meets Sweetheart Of The Rodeo.

When I was a child, I welcomed the blistering sun by the ocean. It was worth it to feel the freedom of what had been burnt away, looking out at the sunset on the ride home, with the cool afternoon wind blasting my face through the open window. This album is all of that.

80s demos of the best 60s songs never written.

Sublime 70s psych folk artefact.

The strongest Yacht Rock album that exists, if you don’t count Steely Dan’s Aja.

Making sense of what you can before sunrise.

A hard season through a Super 8 camera.

Whiskey that doesn’t leave you wallowing.

A non-depresso solo espresso.

The Byrds do country better than country does country.

The greatest Christmas album I've ever heard.

Record store hopping on a rainy day.

Fizzy, foggy, futuristic farmhouse bliss.

A group grounding in an enormous greenhouse when the temperature breaks and the cool summer afternoon breeze enters.