I was talking to a customer today in the art bookshop in which I work about the enduring power of Picasso's 'Guernica' (see footage from Simon Sharma's 'The Power Of Art' series).

It's got me thinking about whether we can justifiably claim that popular music still has (or ever had) a similar, enduring potency. I would like to think that it retains the potential to influence the wider socio-political culture in a direct and meaningful way, but I'm really not sure it does...

So I just want to know what you lot think... does pop music matter as much these days? Does it matter whether it matters?

There is no reason for my posting this clip of Bill Withers playing 'Ain't No Sunshine' on OGWT other than the fact that it's an absolutely beautiful performance.

And his band... was there ever another bunch of musicians who played with such restraint and subtlety? The moment they start to accompany him is so damn good it beggars belief. They make the most sublime noise imaginable...

A great TV moment, even if somewhat brief... I think he was gobsmacked by how good they were... the singer had him down to a tee!

Some song lyrics are so intrinsically 'cinematic' that they could form the basis of a movie script.

Take 'Glamour Profession' by Steely Dan...

6.05
Outside the stadium
Special delivery
For Hoops McCann
Brut and charisma
Poured from the shadow where he stood
Looking good
He's a crowd pleasing man

Any other song lyrics merit a film treatment?

Perhaps my greatest thrill as a kid getting into music was when I stumbled across something really weird that fried my young mind.

In 1982 (aged 13) I was flicking through my aunt's record collection and came across Dr John's 'Gris Gris' album nestled amongst the numerous Dylan LPs and old blues records. I remember taking it out of the pile and staring at the bizarre cover, thinking "What is this?!" I put it on the record player, and will never forget the feeling I had as this strange, strange music began to play.

It was from a different planet to the songs I was used to hearing on Radio 1... wailing saxophone that sounded like a call to prayer, rhythms that could have soundtracked some veiled nocturnal ritual and a cracked drawl of a voice that seemed to emanate from a dark, shadowy place.

It floored me... I knew from that moment on that there was a world of music out there that didn't sound or look like The Thompson Twins. Over the next few years, I discovered other extraordinary sounds, but nothing ever quite matched the thrill of hearing that unique LP for the first time.

What were the records that had a similar effect on you?

Staring at the small hillocks protruding from Lemmy's fizzog on the cover of this month's issue has got me thinking about the peculiarities that come to define certain members of the rock firmament...

Lemmy's warts - you just know this guy's going to rock like a bastard and that he's his own man.

Keith Richards' skull ring - it reminds Keef that he could look worse than he does.

Lennon's granny glasses - on anyone else, not very rock n' roll... worn by Lennon, perfect.

Over to you...

Somewhere deep inside of me (OK... quite near the surface) there lies a soft spot for those acts to whom time hath not been particularly kind. Those rock behemoths that bestrode the planet with their Persian rugs, giant articulated trucks full of gear (medicinal or otherwise) and Zeus-sized egos... those bands whose gargantuan appetites laid waste to city after city on interminable world tours... the same musicians whose pomposity was pricked by punk's stiletto heel.

Let us now celebrate - however briefly - those poor misguided souls whose vaulting ambition far outstripped their meagre talent... they tried, bless 'em.

I shall kick off this nostalgia fest with the one, the only... Emerson, Lake and, yes... you guessed it, Palmer.

PS: don't be shy... there's no such thing as a guilty pleasure in this here parish, remember?!

Every time I hear 'Ghost Town' by The Specials, I find it sounds even better than the last time I listened to it. I loved it when it came out and have loved it ever since. And I am still finding new things to appreciate in this truly classic song 27 years after its release.

Any other tunes that seem to mature like a fine wine as the years pass by?

I was working today and came home to see that Michael Vaughan had resigned as England cricket captain. Watching the press conference he gave, I was struck by his integrity and the genuine emotion he showed as he thanked his family for their support over the past 5 years.

Various writers for The Word have commented on the 'cry baby culture' that has developed in recent times, with celebrities collapsing into floods of tears for the flimsiest of reasons.

I found it heart-warming to see a man of character and substance like Vaughan reacting in this way to giving up a job he obviously loved. No crocodile tears, these... they were real and heartfelt.

Isn't that the way it should be?

This is a question that has been bugging me for a while - when and why did bands lose their 'swing'? In other words, when did they lose the ability to roll as well as rock?

One of the reasons I prefer listening to rock n' roll from the sixties and seventies is that so many bands nowdays sound terribly leaden and lumpy... they wouldn't know a groove if it came up and bit them on the arse. But back in the day, those cats swang baby!

Here's three examples of how they used to do it...

The Faces - Cindy Incidentally

The Rolling Stones - Can't You Hear Me Knocking

The Band - Up On Cripple Creek

The sudden burst of Kate Bush-related activity on this site has got me thinking about those artists who just seemed to appear from nowhere, their music fully-realized and utterly distinctive from the off. I remember hearing 'Wuthering Heights' on Radio 1 back in 1978 at the age of 9 and the effect it had on me... "Who is this? It's so strange!"

She has honed her craft over the years and branched out into new areas, but she has never lost that essential quality of 'otherness' that has always set her apart. Kate Bush's music often reminds me of the paintings of Samuel Palmer; visionary art that is imbued with a deep spirituality that couldn't have been created by anyone else.

So who else is operating in a field of one? There can't be many...

Years back I remember reading an interview with Mark Knopfler in which he openly admitted to having been so enamored with Richard Thompson's guitar playing that he used to write down the amp and guitar settings he used during gigs in the early 1970s.

This is a rare example of a musician fully admitting to a major influence upon his or her style. Usually they keep schtum, or mutter something about having "quite liked so-and-so" when they were younger. I've always thought that Tom Verlaine's playing on Television's 'Marquee Moon' sounds remarkably RT-esque, but I don't recall him ever having cited the bereted and bearded one as a major inspiration. Maybe he wasn't, but if not it's one hell of a coincidence...

Are there any other musicians whom we can acuse of not having fully paid their musical debts?

And what about those who have cheerfully owned up?

Watching the Stax documentary on BBC4 last night reminded me just how wonderful Steve Cropper's guitar playing is... he might never have had the popular acclaim of a Clapton or Hendrix, but he is right up there with the best of them. If more teenage boys had tried to mimic his style - a mix of grit, groove and restraint - instead of the histrionics of flashier players, then the world would have been spared some very tedious music.

Enough respect, Steve... you're the man!

Here he is playing Crop Dustin' from his album With A Little Help From My Friends...

Yes, you read that correctly... Bay City Rollers 2008 calendar.

Huh?!

Sometimes the better idea gets lost along the way...