A couple of months ago the BBC announced that it had reached an agreement that allowed them to use commercial music on their podcasts. This meant that, at last, the BBC could produce music podcasts. The only problem was that music could only be included in the form of clips a maximum of 30 seconds long.

I don’t know what most people think, but that sets off sirens in my head — music podcasts where the music is cut short. Of course, it is much better than having no music at all, so we should be thankful for this.

The original blog post about it was on the BBC’s interesting Radio Labs blog — take a look at it if you’re interested in the future of radio. There, Chris Kimber made a valiant attempt at explaining how and why the new music podcasts would work.

The interesting thing for me is going to be working out what works well as a podcast as opposed to a linear radio broadcast. Our approach generally is to offer “short form audio snacks”, rather than try to replicate the whole programme experience but with short music clips instead of full tracks. All the research we have done into podcasting suggests that people generally want something special and different from normal broadcast radio programmes, and that short is better than long. Most of our speech podcasts are a maximum of 30 mins long, but with these new music podcasts we are aiming for really short form - about ten minutes is what I’m recommending.

This is just a personal preference (and I know I am in a minority), but I have always preferred long things to short things. I prefer 70 minute long albums, and can just about tolerate a 45 minute long album. But I feel offended and ripped off if an album lasts 35 minutes or shorter.

It’s interesting that most of the BBC’s speech podcasts are 30 minutes long maximum. Two of the four BBC speech podcasts I subscribe to typically last 50 minutes. A ten minute long podcast is not normally my cup of tea — I prefer them to be half an hour to an hour long.

So initially I was sceptical about these new music podcasts. But I went ahead and subscribed to the music podcast that appealed to me most — Stuart Maconie’s Freak Zone. My fears came true the first time I listened to it. I found it an unsatisfying listen.

I think a lot of this may be to do with the style of the programme. Sadly, I am no longer a tweenager, so I don’t know if the format works better for, for instance, the Radio 1 indie podcast. But I imagine it would. An indie tune doesn’t typically evolve much from beginning to end, and a short thirty second burst is probably enough to get a full flavour of the song.

But the Freak Zone is too analytical and beard-strokey to treat music like this (interestingly, the podcast tends to last half an hour rather than the recommended 10 minutes). The show prides itself on playing the weird and wonderful obscurities that you wouldn’t hear elsewhere. As such, the pieces of music are more deserving of a full hearing, as it were.

In the first episode of the podcast I downloaded, a short clip of ‘Autopsy’ by Fairport Convention was played. After that, Stuart Maconie began talking about the song’s time signatures, wonderful arrangement and lyrics. I just thought to myself, “Yeah, not that I heard much of it.”

Nevertheless, I am now a regular listener of the Freak Zone podcast. Even though the music clips aren’t long enough, the speech content is interesting enough.

The podcast is definitely doing its job, at least as far as the BBC’s hopes go.

There’s a buzz of excitement in interactive teams, and the radio stations too, about how this can get our audio content to people who don’t normally listen, or who would much prefer to listen in their own time, on their own portable media device.

That certainly describes me. Prior to downloading the podcast, I had only ever listened to the programme once or twice (back in the days when it was presented by Bruce Dickinson). The timeslot doesn’t suit me well, and it is true that I probably wouldn’t even listen to the full show even if I could download it (and I’ve never listened to it on Listen Again).

Despite my reservations, the digest podcast suits me very well indeed. Just a shame about the short length of the music clips.

All of the national BBC Radio stations appear to be getting new logos. I had noticed that the logo for my station of choice, Radio Five Live, had completely changed at the same time as the theme music got watered down yet again (anyone else remember when it sounded punchy and authoritative?).

About time in a sense, because I can remember that Five Live had their old logo from even before I started listening to it regularly, which is a looong time. In fact, most of the BBC Radio logos are pretty damn old, as this website shows. Seven or eight years old in fact, which is good going for a logo these days (particularly one for a TV or radio station). So it was probably time for a bit of a refresh, although — as usual with these sort of things — the responses appear to have been lukewarm.

Indeed, some of the attempts at new logos are rather uninspiring. Radio 1’s has barely changed from what it had before. Meanwhile, Radio 2’s logo has been changed from the neat neon sign to the utterly dull plain 2 symbol.

But there are some signs of clever creativity. The incorporation of a bass clef into the numeral 3 for Radio 3’s logo is inspired, although it does make that numeral look slightly odd. Similarly, Radio 4’s logo cleverly has a speech mark in it, while 1Xtra incorporates a ‘play’ symbol.

BBC 7’s old logo was one of the best going, so the new version was always going to be a disappointment. It has turned out to be a greatly watered down version, although with a nod towards the old logo.

Similarly, 6 Music’s new logo is a bit like a watered down version of the old logo. I was never a fan of the old 6 Music logo. I never understood why that ‘6′ was so slanted and, well, big and fat. To represent Phill Jupitus?

BBC Asian Network’s logo is by far the jazziest. It makes me wonder why all of the other stations opted to go for more reserved, plain logos when the Asian Network can have such a colourful and vibrant one.

What I find most interesting about the new logos, though, is a point about branding in general. Firstly, the logos’ focus on numerals has effectively entailed a name change for one of the stations. The difference between ‘Radio Five Live’ and ‘Radio 5 Live’ might be subtle. But it was obviously important enough for someone to go around the website and, like a cuddly Stalin, change all instances of ‘Five Live’ to ‘5 Live’.

As such, overnight one of my tags has become irrelevant. Still, whoever it was that went around changing the website missed a couple of bits, including 5 Live’s own studios as my in-depth investigation of the website reveals! Notice also, that bbc.co.uk/5live still redirects to bbc.co.uk/fivelive. These pesky rebranding exercises are more trouble than they realise.

(Update: I have just realised that the changes on the Radio 5 Live website have even gone to the extent of writing ‘live’ with a lowercase ‘l’. What a load of arse! It is a bit like when Channel 5 changed its name to ‘five’. It just looks stupid! And it looks double stupid when some of the programmes are now called things like ‘5 live Report’ and ‘5 live Breakfast’.)

Another point is that all of the new logos contain the words ‘BBC Radio’, even when some of the station’s names do not. In other words, BBC 6 Music is not now called BBC Radio 6 Music, and BBC 7 is not now BBC Radio 7. But perhaps this is just a halfway house before going all the way to calling these radio stations.

Presumably the reason 6 Music and BBC 7 omitted the ‘Radio’ tag from their names was to emphasise the fact that you did not need to (indeed, you could not) use an old fashioned tranny to listen to them. This always irritated me, because surely there was more potential for confusion with the television channels.

I mean, the BBC used to always advertise Freeview and how you could get “eight BBC channels”. Yet the BBC have an outlet called BBC 7. Surely that is just asking for confusion. It would surely make more sense to call the radio station Radio 7 and leave the BBC X monikers to the television stations.

As the years have gone on, we have come to learn that radio is not a dirty word on the internet (or, indeed, on your DAB set). Radio is radio is radio, whether you are listening to it on the internet, as a podcast, one of those fancy-schmancy phones or, er, the radio. I mean, the internet is teeming with internet radio stations. Even I have two (courtesy of Last.fm)!

And another thing. Why haven’t the new logos incorporated the really swish ‘radio’ logo that appears on the actual BBC Radio website?

I think I have just given myself a headache over logos. Time to go back into hibernation.

Tomorrow is a sad day for fans of experimental music, and it is a particularly poor one for the reputation of the BBC in certain circles. Probably the best music programme on radio, Mixing It, has been axed. The final programme will be tomorrow at 2215 on Radio 3.

Mixing It was probably the only radio programme I would go out of my way to listen to. Ever since I was introduced to it six years ago by a good person on a messageboard about Feeder (of all bands), the programme has been the main source through which I discovered new bands. It’s been doing the same thing for many others since 1990. But that will all end tomorrow.

Over the past six years, nothing has influenced my music buying habits more than Mixing It. There literally is nothing else like it on the radio. It wasn’t called Mixing It for nothing. You genuinely wouldn’t know what was around the corner. It took Blectum From Blechdom as seriously as the rest of Radio 3 took Bach and Beethoven.

This love of modern experimental music earned it a certain reputation from some particular snooty-nosed Radio 3 listeners who would rather the station was filled with classical music and nothing else. People such as Friends of Radio 3 (some “friends”, huh?) say that Mixing It would fit better on Radio 1 or 6Music.

I can only assume that they have never listened to Radio 1. A perousal of Radio 1’s “Experimental” [sic] page would downright offend any self-respecting fan of experimentation. Right now it features The Klaxons and CSS. It is hardly boundary smashing stuff.

As for the programmes on Radio 1, even in the past five years the change has been drastic. Back then there was The Blue Room, an ambient / acoustic music show which, while tucked away in the schedules at 5am, at least suited its slot. In the past year, it has been axed. Other experimental shows by Mary Anne Hobbs and Gilles Peterson have scandalously been moved to graveyard slots like 2am to make way for Colin Murray.

Meanwhile, 6Music (with a couple of notable exceptions) is really just Radio 2 for people in denial. For all of its good aspects, 6Music probably does not have the ability to accomodate a programme with such varied and eclectic playlists. I certainly could not imagine Radio 1 or 6Music broadcasting concerts by artists like The Matthew Herbert Big Band.

And this is not to mention the approach taken by Mixing It, which really took an interest in the way the music was made. It was chin-strokey but not po-faced, an approach shaped by the brilliant banter between Mark Russell and Robert Sandall. The programme didn’t take itself too seriously, but it had quite an analytical bent that really only suits Radio 3, certainly more than it would suit Radio 1 or 6Music.

Take, for instance, last week’s special programme on the Berlin music scene. Radio 1 might do a documentary on Berlin, but it would probably only focus on a genre at a time and it certainly wouldn’t last ninety minutes. Mixing It’s programme explored many aspects of the Berlin community and took a genuine interest in the way the music was made. It didn’t try to relate everything to some kind of superficial, non-existent scene.

Mixing It was a unique in that it didn’t see a boundary between pop and classical music as somebody like Friends of Radio 3 or even your average Radio 1 listener would see. The approach of Mixing It has possibly fostered a new culture linking pop and classical music. I recently wrote about how brilliant Jonny Greenwood is. Writing on the Media Guardian website, Ed Baxter of Resonance FM said:

Witness the BBC Concert Orchestra’s coy description of its current Composer in Residence, Johnny Greenwood, as “probably better known as the guitarist in the hugely successful band Radiohead”. Probably. And probably too such a collaboration would have been inconceivable without Mixing It connecting savvy classical players and serious young pop stars.

It is very sad that Radio 3 should be turning its back on something so wonderful, in a year when Jonny Greenwood won the Radio 3 listeners’ award in the British Composer Awards.

Because not only has Mixing It been axed, but its only close relative — Late Junction — has been cut from four shows per week to three as well. Radio 3 appears to be closing the door to the sort of music that doesn’t get an outlet anywhere else (despite what Friends of Radio 3 might believe!). And to think that just a few years ago things were looking up, when Mixing It’s slot was extended.

So what has Mixing It been replaced with? Something called Jazz Library, a new programme dedicated to playing old jazz records. Now I don’t have an aversion to jazz, but I find it difficult to believe that this new programme will make anything like the same impact as Mixing It did.

Is there really not enough space for Mixing It to remain on Radio 3’s schedules. It is not as if 75 minutes tucked away on a Friday night (or even its old slot of 60 minutes on a Sunday night!) is really getting in anybody’s way.

What can fans of experimental music listen to now? Do we really have to make do Mary Anne Hobbs’ yelping (at 4am) and whatever podcasts we can rustle up from the internet? What will influence my music purchases from now on? From Saturday onwards, I will be a little bit more lost than I was before.

• Discussions about Mixing It on Drowned in Sound
• Mixing It website
• Mixing It on Wikipedia

Over the next four days I’m going to do what every other bore worth his salt does at this time of year, and that’s writing a big list showing off all the records I bought this year. I list them in reverse order of preference. Or I just put them all in a hat and drew lots. See if you can guess which. I might as well have drawn lots, because coming up with twenty decent albums that weren’t reissues of some sort was like shitting a building.

To be honest, it hasn’t been a vintage year for music. This year I’ve preferred to buy music from the past, because I worked out that there must be so much better music from the period zero to 2005 than music from today. Which is obviously true because even the top album on this list probably wouldn’t have made it into the top five of last year’s list. If I didn’t separate reissues and whatnot into their own separate list, they would have taken up most of the top ten.

Why has this year been so rubbish? Mostly because the media has been collectively masturbating to the boring drones of The Arctic Monkeys to the exclusion of almost everything else. These dullards are the future of music? I certainly hope not, because they could hardly sound less contemporary. It’s just like when The Strokes became huge five years ago for re-hashing the seventies. What is around the corner? There must be something… please?

Right. What you’re getting today is my list of top albums from #20–#11. The series will be rounded off with a top ten, and in between you’ll get a couple of other posts of other stuff. Enjoy!

20. FM3 & Dou Wei — Hou Guan Yin

A pleasant little album. There’s not much else to say about it. If you liked the music on the Buddha Machine, give it a shot. Even if you didn’t much like the Buddha Machine, you could well like this — although I’ve not spotted anybody else giving it much attention.

What I said about it at the time

19. Pulp — The Peel Sessions

You see, I couldn’t even resist including this one. Although it isn’t technically a re-release, there is not a single piece of music on this record that isn’t at least five years old. It compiles all of Pulp’s Peel Sessions — including the 1983 session which Jarvis hoped would never be released — and some other live bits and bobs. It’s certainly an interesting listen, even if they hit the odd bum note. A must for any Pulp fan.

What I said about it at the time

18. Plaid & Bob Jaroc — Greedy Baby

This audio-visual collaboration was hit by many delays, and it seems as though it was a right pain to make. Sounds like it will be a disaster, but it actually isn’t bad. Which is quite surprising really, considering how boring Plaid’s recent music has tended to be. Both the music and the visuals vary in quality from track to track, but overall this is not too shabby — as long as you’re not expecting too much.

What I said about it at the time

17. Malcom Kipe — Lit

I wasn’t too keen on this album at first. It seemed okay, but nothing particularly special. But I really grew fond of it. I found that it was a great album to listen to in the summer. Very nice stuff indeed. A bit like the Plaid album, as long as you’re not expecting anything revolutionary, you might well enjoy this.

What I said about it at the time

16. Clark — Body Riddle

The damp squib of the year. After all the hype, and the amazing Throttle Furniture EP that came out at the start of the year, this album was a bit of a disappointment. Perhaps this was because expectations were so high, but I just found this album a bit underwhelming. In fact, I thought the freebie EP that came with it, Throttle Clarence (a collection of music from the Clarence Park era), was much better! If you lump in Throttle Furniture and Throttle Clarence, Body Riddle would easily enter the top ten; maybe even the top five. Body Riddle on its own, though, is a disappointment.

What I said about Body Riddle and Throttle Clarence at the time
What I said about Throttle Furniture at the time

15. London Sinfonietta — Warp Works & Twentieth Century Masters

This is yet another album where none of the music came from 2006. Oh well. This is a compilation of highlights from the celebrated Warp Works concerts that explore the links between contemporary electronica a la James and Jenkinson and ‘avant garde’ composers of the twentieth century such as Steve Reich and John Cage. There is plenty of interesting music here. I know I’ll certainly be investigating Karlheinz Stockhausen more in future. Perhaps the most intriguing parts of the album are the bits where classic Aphex Twin and Squarepusher tracks are re-worked for acoustic and performed by London Sinfonietta. The results are sometimes patchy, occasionally rewarding — but certainly interesting.

What I said about it at the time

14. Thom Yorke — The Eraser

It’s certainly been a good year for frontmen to be breaking away from their successful bands to pursue a solo career. Yorke is the first of three in my list, but his was the most disappointing album. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting too much. To be honest, it is quite an average album. But there are some great moments. My particular favourite is ‘Black Swan’, which like grey funk; cold but groovy. There is too much of the old fuzzy pampered rockstar politics as well. He ensured that carbon emissions were kept to a minimum, and he did this by chopping down more trees than was strictly necessary.

13. Boards of Canada — Trans Canada Highway

A lot of people have gone off Boards of Canada now. I guess the novelty has worn thin. I thought The Campfire Headphase was pretty poor, but the Trans Canada Highway EP is a little gem in my opinion. It gives you what you’re looking for as a Boards of Canada fan, without resorting to re-hashes or minor variations of their most-loved albums. What a track ‘Skyliner’ is!

What I said about it at the time

12. Hot Chip — The Warning

This album is proof that all a half-decent band needs to get exposure is a major label deal. Everybody is banging on and on about Hot Chip at the moment — and for good reason. This is quite a good, enjoyable album. But I prefer their previous album, Coming on Strong. I shouldn’t complain though. It’s great to see such good music getting so big. So full marks in that respect.

11. DAT Politics — Wow Twist

This was my introduction to DAT Politics. I didn’t like this album much at first. Its pace was unrelenting, and there was very little variation in style (with the exception of ‘Fake Friend’). But after a while it really grew on me. If you like brash and colourful electronics, you can’t really afford to miss this.

Right, that’s the first ten sorted out. Tomorrow I will bring news of three sloppy turds.

For a band that’s been on ‘hiatus’ for the past five years, there has been a remarkable amount of activity on the Pulp front. Jarvis Cocker’s solo album is due to be released very soon. Pulp’s three most popular albums — His ’n’ Hers, Different Class and This is Hardcore — have recently been re-released, each with an extra disc of bonus b-sides, rarities and suchlike.

It’s a bit odd, because when Pulp’s greatest hits album was released a few years ago it didn’t even enter the top 70. But they must have decided that enough time has passed for people to get nostalgic about Pulp.

The £15+ per go I’m being asked to pay for the re-releases of albums I already own from a period when I was such a big Pulp fan that I own all of the b-sides anyway is a bit much. I’ll wait for the prices to come down. But when I was browsing in Virgin the other day I spotted this CD in the corner of my eye and I jumped on the chance to buy it.

It is the ‘complete’ set of Pulp Peel Sessions. It certainly feels complete with two CDs and twenty-nine tracks spanning twenty years. Most people are probably unaware, but Pulp were actually formed in the late 1970s. Their first Peel Session was in 1981, about fifteen years before anybody else had heard of them! Pulp also hold the dubious honour of having the longest gap between their first and second Peel Sessions — a fist-gnawingly long twelve years. Ouch!

Jarvis Cocker has always let it be known that he thinks that Pulp’s material from the 1980s is poor. I quite like most of it. The only genuinely dodgy album of theirs is Separations, their misfiring experiment into acid house territory.

In the liner notes to The Peel Sessions, written by Jarvis himself, he says that he has always resisted the release of Pulp’s first Peel Session because it sounds naive. Perhaps inevitably, it’s the most interesting aspect of the CD. I am actually quite impressed with these songs, performed by a band whose members were still in their teens (the drummer was 15). It certainly could have been a lot worse. Jarvis had nothing to be embarrassed about.

‘Wishful Thinking’ is probably the strongest song, although ‘Refuse to be Blind’ is an interesting glimpse into the slightly experimental approach that Pulp were taking even in their very earliest days. It does sound as though they were a bit overawed by all of the equipment they had at their disposal, but it doesn’t sound too bad for it.

With the first session out of the way, we skip a decade to the period when Pulp were first getting noticed in wider circles. The contrast is huge. It is a very different band. Jarvis is the only member remaining from the original lineup. These performances from the mid-1990s are not actually particularly strong. Cocker sometimes appears to forget his words, or miss his cue. Instead of putting in a quality performance, Cocker relied more on his charisma.

I can’t help but feel that most of Pulp’s eventual success was down to Cocker’s charisma. His famous idiosyncrasies, absent from the 1981 session, are in full force in the later sessions. Of course, the songs themselves aren’t bad. But it doesn’t quite sound like the Pulp most people probably remember.

The performance of ‘Common People’ is especially jarring. It sounds nothing like the powerful epic that would go on to make Pulp the kings of Britpop. It sounds like a really hastily-organised first rehearsal; a cheaply put-together demo tape. It starts of with a weak synth intro and Jarvis’ performance is nowhere near to being the rip-roaring interpretation that made the song what it was. It generally sounds as though their hearts aren’t in it. Imagine if the song had been produced by somebody else — they might never have been as big as they became.

Their later, post-success performances, are easily the most impressive on this collection. It exhibits a more back-to-basics, down-to-earth and comfortable band. They were no longer desperately seeking success, and they were no longer trying to cope with the success when it eventually came.

While We Love Life was not as popular as their previous three albums, I feel as though some of their strongest material came from this period. The assuredness of these performances echo this. ‘Duck Diving’, essentially a charming short story read out by Cocker, is a particularly good inclusion. I had not been aware of the existence of this at all.

CD2 is made not of conventional Peel Sessions, but of special concerts broadcast on Radio 1 including a celebration of John Peel’s 40^th anniversary in broadcasting. Sadly, as we know, there weren’t to be many more years. The inclusion of a jokey remark from Cocker that their performance of ‘Help the Aged’ is dedicated to Peel is a tad unfortunate. Luckily, when it’s all over we hear Peel himself make a sarcastic remark about it.

Although Pulp’s limitations as a live act are exposed here (for instance, what is going on in that out-of-tune performance of ‘Common People’?), these live performances are generally stronger than the actual Peel Sessions themselves. It’s a fairly broad selection of songs aswell. In a way we have been treated to a Pulp live album of sorts.

All-in-all, The Peel Sessions is a great album. It not necessarily great because of the quality of the music. But it is certainly an interesting document of Pulp’s evolution. We see three distinct phases exhibited on this album — from the slightly lackluster experimenting youngsters to the popular Britpoppers to the more mature, post-success, relaxed band that went on hiatus in 2001.

A very good documentation of the career of one of the key bands of the 1990s as filtered through the ears of John Peel.

• Pulp on Keeping It Peel