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Once upon a time an artist named Banksy told the people of Britain:

It’s September, but it feels more like a kind of spring.

In 1976-77 punk hit Britain like a tidal wave, sweeping away all the tired music that stood in its way. It wasn’t just a London thing. Across the country local scenes developed. Many would argue that Manchester was the most important. In his occasional blog looking at punk, Hassan Mahamdallie looks at the Manchester scene.

I have just returned from a series of lectures on Holocaust archaeology. They were engaging and serious, but the discussion was ruined by a callous argument about the Roma victims of the Holocaust.

You know there is a drought of good music when swathes of the music press tell you Marks to Prove It, by the Maccabees, is the album of the summer. So in the never-ending search for new and exciting music, I have spent the last month buying reissues and crate digging.