Tonights venue should be renamed Stoneking Tut Tut’s New Orleans Hut. A trombone growls, trumpet chuckles and I’m transported back in time to the world of southern blues and early jazz. Jungle Blues conjures up vivid scenes and steaming atmospheres. I half expect to stand on slithering snakes, or see a crocodile swimming in the sink as I wait at the bar. Dressed in white shirt and red bowtie, Stoneking is a true entertainer, with a voice that oozes warmth, charm and sadness. He's a hot shot on the Nashville Steel and banjo too. Tattooed arms and a miked up tuba/double bass, are the only evidence that Stoneking and his primitive orchestra aren’t true life musicians from 1930s, who have achieved immortality. It’s a valuable music history lesson, but sounds so fresh and new. With it’s rousing, Cab Calloway brass chorus, “The Love Me Or Die” is infectious and I find myself happily humming it as as my horse and carriage takes me back to my humble lodgings.

I love this band but this recently opened venue was awful - problems with the sound throughout and regular bursts of feedback. The Ukies did their utmost though, all 7 of them crammed onto a tiny stage, they played for about an hour and a half with a mix of old and new material. There were storming covers of Pretty Vacant and Anarchy in the UK, alongside many favourite traditional songs - which I can't name because they're all in Ukrainian ! By the final half hour they were playing as fast as they could and came back for an encore with Davni Chasy (better known as Those were the days). Downside was that they didn't come on until 10pm meaning we had to sit through a DJ set (not bad) a duo called Cracktown (awful, but they thought they were funny) and some footage of a UFO that turned out to be a TV ariel...

The venue is brilliant, an elegantly designed marquee built from steel, cotton and canvas on the shore of Lake Toolonlahti in central Helsinki. It even comes with a sloping floor so that everyone can see the main attraction, German-born DJ/gypsy music advocate Shantel. His Orkrestra are hugely entertaining, and while the lyrics might appear trite to those of more "sophisticated" taste ("yabadabaday yoboboboboy, I wanna be your disco boy"), there's more fun here than a lifetime of bouncy castles will provide. False endings are de rigour, crowd participation is compulsory (at one point he has the entire audience kneeling on the floor before the arena erupts into a rousing version of the Italian partisan anthem "Bella Ciao"), and while the show might not be as authentically Romani as some you'll see, it's no less exhilarating.

You can rent David Gedge's apartment in California (see Weddoes' website) - an incongruous location for a man whose songs evoke steamed-up northern boozers where couples iron out their differences. Gedge is relishing being back in Yorkshire, quipping that Brassneck doesn't sound the same when it's sung by southern fans ('Brarrsneck'). The track kicks off a performance of the entire second LP, Bizarro, on its 21st anniversary. Even though the band have been touring the LP in America since April and will be playing it again in Europe later this year, this gig wasn't billed as a Bizarro night, so it was a treat when Gedge announced the band would be playing the LP in full. As he said in an interview, Bizarro takes the original idea of the Wedding Present — playing songs as fast and for as long as possible — to its logical conclusion. Before this year these songs had never been played back to back, but if it was a struggle it didn't show - the guitar thrashing was fabulous.

Following the understated E and Chet “book” tour 2 years back, this was a brilliant return to the hard rocking Eels. Resplendent in white jump suit and tight bandana, E was joined on facial hair and shades by the rest of the band including “Bass Player Magazine’s Bass Player of the Year for 1979”, Koool G Murder. Numerous highlights included seasonal covers (Summer in the City and the knees bent, vocal tour-de-force that was Summertime with added ice lollies!), re-writes (a mad jazz funk Monster, a death metal Birds and the affectionate Beatles pastiche of Beautiful Blues), feedback drenched rockers (the Hombre tunes like Fresh Blood and awesomely LOUD versions of Dog Faced Boy and Souljacker Pt1) and, of course, the inevitable heartbreakers (an angst-ridden End Times and the wondrous second encore of I’m Going To Stop Pretending). The set rattled along and E’s guitar tech should win an award for speed swapping still feeding back guitars for newly tuned ones!

First time in Sneaky Pete's in over 20 years... as a student, the lure of its late licence and proximity to the university was strong. In to see Field Music, largely on the strength of this years "Measure" album, which is still in my top 5 for the year 6 months on. Field Music live were a revelation - adding a bass player and a guitarist/keyboard player to the core of the Brewis brothers, Peter and David, the live sound was pretty muscular, and dare I say it, rocking. Peter and David swapped back and forth between drums and guitar/keys effortlessly, and they and the rest of the band were as tight as a very tight thing. Some criticise their material as being too precise, almost unfeeling, but getting up close with them live you can see that they mean it (man) even if it doesn't always come across on record. Good selection of stuff from Measure as well as from Tones of Town and from their debut. I loved it...

My oddly named local village hall hosts the playgroup five days a week and the old folks club on a Wednesday. I DJ’d there for my wife’s 40th and this year I got my old band mates back together for my 50th. Another recent quinquagenarian, Martyn Joseph, appeared there as part of the Aberdour Festival and blew the audience away with his words (both spoken and sung) and his quite beautiful guitar playing. All the songs were new to me but several were new to him, from the record he was “working out the playing order for” on the way up in the car. Some excitable publicity had him as the “Welsh Springsteen” and his cover of Bruce’s One Step Up complete with a coda, where he dissects and analyses the deceptive simplicity of the song, was jaw-dropping. Before his encore of On My Way, he admitted to sneaking a look at the events diary in the kitchen/dressing room and found: “5th August: Afternoon – Cake Decorating, Evening - Martyn Joseph”. It sure ain’t Vegas...

Queen of Denmark - favourite album of the year thus far, but I'd never seen John Grant live, so the chance to catch the man in a tiny venue was too good to pass on. The gig also fell right in the middle of Edinburgh's festival season (we almost bumped into Stewart Lee on the street) which always makes the place worth a visit. This was John Grant pretty much `unplugged' - just him and another chap filling out bit on piano and guitar. And it was absolutely, heartstoppingly brilliant. Queen of Denmark brought forth a tear from my wife's eye, and Outer Space was confirmed as perhaps the finest love song this year. Lots of great tales and insights from Grant as well - he described the latter song as perhaps the only thing he's ever written that contained no negative thoughts. Seeing this stout fellow at such close quarters and hearing his voice silence a rapt audience made it my gig of the year so far. Must mention support act Rachel Sermani too, gorgeous voice and worth listening out for.

A weekend of traditional entertainment and safer than almost any other event involving 55000 people together for 72 hours. The best acts spanned that dumb-smart divide (Alice Cooper, Iggy, Motley Crue), but youngsters like the shouty stuff. Coming over a bit tired, I managed to sleep through half of "Slayer" and all of "Alice in Chains", and "Take me to the Horizon" (ask your kids). Rammstein and Iron Maiden were worthy headliners, the latter being a national treasure.

Revival of the classic hippy musical. I knew the songs having been in a student production back in the day - but really enjoyed great songs, fantastic band, excellent cast who could both sing and act (though a few of the female singers tended towards modern Careyisms which jarred a bit). Good thumping night out and a good time had by all. The story has a dark ending as those who know it will be aware - no cuddly feel good compromises made (good). This compensated for by an audience-on-stage "Be in" at the end where plump middle aged legs were seen to be shaken. Recommended.

Effectively a "unplugged" set up in an almost intimate (1000 seat venue)- the ex lead singer of Matchbox 20 -reinvents his back catalogue. Aided by a couple of guitarists and jumping between guitar and piano himself the stripped down arrangements allowed the songs to shine through. His solo work seems mainly to consist of poinant tales of love, loss, forgivenss and redemption - this might explain the 80% female audience. The Matchbox 20 pop turns into thoughtful moments (the woman next to me cried at one point) when delivered in this scenario

What happens to a band when it's cast aside by the vagries of the music business. Well in the case of Diesel Park West you carry on regardless. Even when a man down. The bass player, Geoff, was crippled with a very bad case of the flu and so missed his first gig in over 25 years. Thats how long the Diesel's have been giving it some on the weary world of rock. And you know what, they're still bloody GOOD. Not world changing or earth shattering but GOOD. A band of such long standing can tolerate the loss of a major player and soldier on and with a back catalouge of seven albums there was plenty to draw upon. For all their lack of attention, publicity or currency, Diesel Park West still go on. Not because of some vain hope of 'making it' or search for fame but because they write good songs that are worth hearing, long after fashion has taken another victim.

C.W. Stoneking is a white Australian who sounds like Cab Calloway by way of the Congo. The disparity between what you see and what you get is such that the first time he opens his mouth (to casually let slip a grumbling, John Lee Hooker-style moan), it's actually a shock to the system. Despite the novelty trappings - the down-home shtick, the calculated, dumb-luck lisp, the drawl that occasionally lapses into Aussie ocker, the greased back hair and the bow tie - this truly feels like more than pastiche. It's helps that C.W. can really sing - I mean really, truly sing - and that he's such an obvious master of the banjo and resonator guitar. Despite the presence of a very capable backing band, it's very much a one-man-show, and ninety minutes pass in a flash. Go see him: it might just be the most authentic twenty-first century voodoo-jazz-blues-delta-dixie experience of them all.

The advertising poster made the pitch: one of Købke's 19th century Danish landscapes with women standing on a small jetty and some people close by on a rowing boat. The countryside was flat, the atmosphere almost Dutch, the configuration of the people in the frame implied a narrative you couldn't quite grasp. So I paid the £7 and went in to see the works of a man described as the 'Danish master of light' who died at an unripe age in 1848. I'd never heard of him before and crossed the threshold in the spirit of August Edinburgh when all kinds of culture is put on a plate for the city's residents thanks to the various festivals. The exhibition amounted to two rooms of largely unremarkable landscapes and portraits - to my don't-have-a-fine-art-degree eye – and the conclusion that the best and most intriguing image was on the advertising poster. For seven quid, it felt like a minor and limited show. One for the specialists perhaps or fans of Scandi-tragic artists.

Four hours in traffic, with a car stuffed full of camping gear, and two little daughters snoozing in the back, all to get to Camp Bestival. And it was well worth the journey: a magical rainbow world awaited us. The kids vanished into bouncy castles, danced with the English National Ballet, chased bubbles, patted goats, marched in the fancy dress parade, cheered for Mr. Tumble (he's essentially the equivalent of Brad Pitt for the under 5s) & cheerfully lapped up ice cream. The husband and I rocked to bands including The Fall, Marc Almond, Hurts & Billy Bragg, we supped our cider and delighted in our little ones having so much fun. In the evenings, we loaded our sleepy girls into a big buggy, and rocked out to live music as the sun went down. The highlights were Pete & The Pirates, Madness (absolutely superb) & a fireworks finale that was jaw-droppingly beautiful. We all loved Camp Bestival; even my somewhat camping-averse husband. My 4 year old is already begging for us to go back.