So brothers, here we are in September. The summer’s gone, the days are growing shorter, and we’re at a bit of a landmark for me, one that I’m happy to admit that proves that, however slowly, a leopard can change its spots. Since they first came onto the scene all those years ago, I wanted to like the Arctic Monkeys, in fact being from Sheffield (I spent 3 fantastic years there in the 90s at university) and young, brash, singing interesting, sly lyrics in an unashamed regional accent, I should’ve loved them. But I didn’t. And I’m willing to admit that some large part of that was the tidal wave of obsequious press coverage, as if the Beatles were reincarnated in Crookes. The NME were a lot of the problem, and I tend to push back everything they launch (ironic, as three of my good friends now were writing for them at the time). See also Amy Winehouse, Jake Bugg, in fact take your pick.

So, what’s changed? Me, and probably them a bit. Not, I’ll laugh, on my behalf. I’ve liked a lot of what they’ve done, and they’re one of these bands that, if you played a ‘greatest hits’, I’d know most of it. They’ve grown on me for all the reasons that I should have  liked them in the first place. But I think the turner for me (pardon the pun) was Glastonbury. And no, I didn’t even see them, but I’d heard they were amazing. When I got back I watched their set, and pretty much watched it all the way through, and it was a bit of a revelation. Here’s a band that are so far moved on from their early days, so confident, and owning one of the most revered arenas in music. They’re unbelievably tight, and Alex Turner’s really the finished article as a frontman, in a very English way.

I’d heard the new single – Do I Wanna Know – on 6Music, many times, and also You Only Call Me When You’re High, and really liked both, and snippets of other tracks and I haven’t heard anything I’ve not liked. So I’m willing to sit here, and confess to you, my brothers, that I like the Arctic Monkeys. So there. And I’m looking forward to digesting the album.

I hope you like this too.

Ah, the old authenticity debate. We just can’t get away from it. I wonder if that’s how we evaluate modern music. I guess it makes sense. It’s not like there are endless accessible new forms and most artists sit within a well-defined genre, whether they think they do or not.

Saadiq is an unapologetic revivalist and his latest, glorious, upbeat album is a love letter to Motown, late 60 and early 70s soul and even garage rock and psych. Why it works for me when other revivalists fail is just one of those subjective things you can’t put your finger on. But here I am trying to do so, so let’s give it a go!

I think it comes down to a few things. Firstly, he throws his heart and soul into it. This is a committed, shit-hot performance from a guy in control of his vehicle. Secondly, it’s such a rich collection of songs. He’s a songwriter who knows how to press all the buttons and drawing on a rich knowledge of soul music’s past. And finally, he’s a bloody amazing musician (check out any live performance on youtube, the guy is an astonishing guitar player). And that all comes across. There are so many lovely touches on the album – the lovely use of mellotron (that very 60s thin analogue organ sound, reminiscent of late Beatles). Crisp, clear production. I don’t know what’s not to like?

There is also an investment you make in an artist. I’ve followed him since Tony! Toni! Tone! days. I regard Lucy Pearl’s album as possibly the finest R&B album of the 90s. I think his early solo album Still Ray is an incredible, invent piece of work. So I guess me and Raphael go way back.

And that’s it really, isn’t it? Reminds me of Jack Black in a way. No one says, why’s that guy doing garage blues rock – he just is and he’s doing a better job than anyone else.

So why do I think he grabs me more than say, Jake Bugg? Well, all of the above – but really, the number one thing is the songs. They’re a lot, lot better than Bugg’s in my humble opinion. And that’s what you keep coming back for, right?