So I've spent ages trying to think of something funny to write about 7"s. And the cock jokes just won't cut it.

Anyway, no dice. Moving on...

Tonight, it's nothing but 7" singles. Everyone fucking loves them, right?

OK, getting up every 3-4 minutes to change a record is nobody's idea of a go-to good-time, but you're pretty much guaranteed a rinse.

You either cut straight to the meat, getting the best shit from the full-length, or you get landed with the weird shit that wouldn't fit on the album in the first place. Either way, sorted.

Then there's the one-offs, the bands that just disappeared after about 6 minutes of speaker time. They're pretty much always great, eh?

All that, plus keeping it concise usually ups the fat-trimming ante - no room for any floppy thighs here. And they're cheap. All in all, pretty much the perfect format.

So expect tour-only gold from former Harry Pussy amp-burner Bill Orcutt, a wild oud and synth duo from Keith Fullerton Whitman, a Flemish cover of Fever from DDV (of Club Moral fame), raw as balls droning African folk with harmonies pulled straight from the fucking heavens and a whole load of obscure psych, garage, no wave and post punk.

Tool up, sweet thing. Shit is kicking off.