Tom Ravenscroft's music blog

An afternoon tuned in to Britain's greatest nostalgia station.

Angel Radio, based in Havant in Hampshire, is apparently the UK's favourite nostalgia station and is run by older people for older people. Several of the team are over 80, most are over 60 and all are volunteers. I was told about it by an 87-year-old man who seemed to have rather trustworthy tastes and so spent an afternoon while in Portsmouth tuning in.

The vast majority of the music I hadn't heard of, mainly I suspect because they only play music recorded before the 1960s and though I do have a love of early jazz and blues I am not informed enough that I could muster enough music to fill a whole station. In a constant scrabble to hear as many new things as possible you can forget that new to your ears doesn't have to mean new to the world.

I like the idea of getting excited about discovering a new record that someone else got equally excited about hearing 70 or 80 years previously. For someone who hasn't spent much time listening to old music, some of the music on Angel could turn out to sound as innovative, new and inspiring as anything you might hear on "new" music shows, such as the ones I try to put together myself each week on 6 Music.

Tom Ravenscroft's radio show is on BBC 6 Music every Friday at 9pm

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“Minoan pendant”: a new poem by Mark Granier

“Yes – I press my nose / to the pleasantly warm glass – / it’s a copy of one I saw / cased in the cool museum”

Yes – I press my nose
to the pleasantly warm glass –
it’s a copy of one I saw
cased in the cool museum –
gold beaten to honey, a grainy
oval dollop, flanked by two
slim symmetrical bees –

garland for a civilisation’s
rise and collapse, eye-dropped
five thousand years: a flash
of evening sun on a windscreen
or wing mirror – Heraklion’s
scooter-life buzzing and humming –

as I step in to browse, become
mesmerised by the warm
dark eyes of the woman
who gives her spiel and moves
softly and with such grace,
that, after leaving, I hesitate

a moment on the pavement
then re-enter with a question
I know not to ask, but ask
anyway, to hear her voice
soften even more as she smiles
and shakes her hair – no.

Mark Granier is an Irish poet and photographer. He is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Haunt (Salmon).

This article first appeared in the 16 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Britain on the brink