It makes me feel like dancing...

I quite like music. In fact, I really like music. In fact, more than that, I think it's fucking important. You're on my page now, where I'm going to be writing about it, in all its wonder.

To clarify before we start: this isn't going to be a massive collection of rants about the myriad sub-Keane bands (hands up who didn't realise that 'sub-Keane' existed as a genre?) that now infest our airwaves. Naturally, there will be a bit of that - Snow Patrol are dreadful. Really dreadful. And apparently the world needs to be reminded. Predominantly, though, this is going to be a positive experience - this is going to be a reminder that music doesn't have to be monotonous, 'oh-my-god-if-I-can't-be-Radiohead-can-I-at-least-be-Muse' shite.

We're going to talk about CSS, who are, by the way, your new favourite band; we're going to talk about Cajun Dance Party, who are young enough to make you cry for a lifetime lost, but good enough to make you cry again, in a much better way; we're going to talk about The Shins, who have been around forever, are fucking brilliant, and have still sold fewer albums than Gary Lightbody has friends; and we're going to talk about the hideously monikered Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. who, despite being a bit of a baby-Bono pious twat, and having saddled himself with one of the worst band names in history has managed to create an album of (mostly) heart-breaking beauty and sincerity. And he's even better live.

So check your cynicism and your Coldplay albums at the door, and come on in. This is Liverpool in the 60s, London in the 70s, Manchester in the 80s and Wales (yes, Wales) in the 90s. It's a fucking party, and it's going to be top. Welcome. Come in. Chuck your coat in the bedroom. Grab a beer. Let's get mashed and dance like twats. Hurrah!