Hello, Jude here, formerly of this parish. I've been doing my track-a-day blog again now for nearly six weeks. I recommend you all do it – it's a nice way of remembering what you were doing on a certain day, and how much music frames what we do. You can find mine here: http://atrackadaykeepsthedoctoraway.blogspot.com.

Hello. I have just started a new blog called A Track A Day Keeps The Doctor Away, a blog that works like an aural diary of my everyday life. Each day, I'll put one song up that has moved me in a particular way in those twenty-four hours, whether it's simply popped into my head, soundtracked my journey from A to B, been heard from a live stage or leapt out at me from the old radiogram, as my Grandma still calls it. I'm trying to find personal songs that I feel passionate about, be them releases from the past, present or even future. And I've always liked writing that concentrates on people's personal reactions to a record, so hell, I'm going to do it.

This week, I've enjoyed Eartha Kitt, Neon Neon, The Names, music hall singer Lily Morris and Sailing By. Let me know what you think here if you fancy.

On a recent alcohol-flavoured weekend away with friends, a few of us got talking about the new internet phenomenon Sleeveface, the site where people are invited to send in pictures of themselves with body parts magically obscured - and transformed - by images on vinyl albums. Then we looked at The Word my friend Michael was reading and had an idea.

Within seconds, Michael turned into the Prince Of Darkness:

Then he got a little shocked by the brilliance of it all:

Anyone care to join in? Van Morrisons especially welcome.

[asset|aid=27|format=image|formatter=asset|title=1039_0.jpg|width=240|height=163|align=left|resizable=true] Is it the Wicked Witch and the Cowardly Lion? Nope, it's me and Robert Plant in the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, shortly after I grilled the PG Tips-loving Led Zeppelin frontman about his new record with Alison Krauss, his secret of live performance ("to be panic-stricken at all times") and the drink he prefers to imbibe in his local pub back home on the Welsh Borders ("a white wine spritzer", inexplicably).

Apart from my rendezvous with old Percy and Alison, Nashville was an absolute dream too. Honky tonks as far as the eye can see, steak and eggs for breakfast and enough vintage clothes stores to satisfy the most avid cowboy-shirt lover (including Muir, our photographer, who bought half the town). I'd love to go back there, and would like to know if any of you lot have dusty deep South stories you'd like to share too...