For this writer at least, the constraints of a great deal of travelling have directed me back to tapes, and the traveller’s one true friend: radio. It seems to fit the overall feel of the year, full of radio-friendly tracks, and party party party mixes, yet curiously lack ing in substance or integrity.

It’s ironic that the year in which the swing from vinyl became irreversible– the point at which it has traditionally been assumed albums would swamp singles – should prove to fertile for the latter, and so undistinguished in the former.

Particularly disappointing was the experience of hearing a good single only to find it was far and way the best rack on the album from which it was taken. A good example was Aerosmith’s ‘Jane’s Got A Gun’: great single, but the album sucked.

Then there was the latest UK wave, the bit dance movement, described by Tony Wilson at the New Music Seminar as ‘the only real new music’. Typical Anglo arrogance, I suppose – last time we heard that kind of stuff it was consigning boring old farts like Tina Turner, Rod Stewart, Queen and Elton John to the dustbin of pop history, to be swept away by a tidal wave of raw new music … punk.

Right!

The purveyors of the current dance wave deserve a better fate than that which awaited punk. Not that there’s anything remotely ‘new’ about what they’re at. But at least they hold out the promise of a good time. Not unlike Rod, and Tina, and Queen, and Elton in their various ways!!

And surely Kylie Minogue’s latest video sounds the creative death knell for the whole visual vibe of the dance wave? All rather Rowan and Martin – you can pick up said teevee curio on satellite channels from time to time. There’s something positively Deeelite-ful about body-painted Judy Carne …

Meanwhile, the old-timers continued to deliver – Van Morrison, Paul Simon, John Martyn. Was (Not Was) – people who’ve maintained their standards, and hence their credibility. Simon’s embrace of southern rhythms took him to Brazil – elsewhere,e though, there were other fine ‘world’-based releases like the Gypsy Kings, Mano Negra and a superb album from the brilliant Irish accordionist Máirín O’Connor.

But for me the year belonged to two utterly different recording artists, Howlin’ Wolf and Sinead O’Connor. Others have written at length about Sinead’s progress through the year, her elevation to superstar status, her wonderful voice, the videos, the controversies, her demand to be true to herself, whatever the consequences. For me it’s a fascinating and unfinished script.

Being true to yourself would be a familiar philosophy to Chester Burnett, the great Howlin’ wolf. A bunch of his records were re-released this year, digitally re-mastered for CD, in which the man’s awesome power and conviction come boiling through.

The Wold could make paint peel at fifty paces. If you take nothing else out of the year, take ‘Moaning At Midnight’ and bear witness. The pack is on the prowl!