What would Murdoc make of it? Previously, Gorillaz live performances have seen the “real” musicians play anonymously behind a curtain. But not tonight. If anything, tonight’s show abandons the notion of Gorillaz as a “virtual band” altogether. It seems more about establishing Damon Albarn’s overdue re-emergence as a front man, after spending close to a decade in the background on a number of collaborative projects, from Mali Music to The Good, The Bad And The Queen and Gorillaz.

A nice email last week from Michael Taylor, alerting me to the existence of his band, Hiss Golden Messenger, and their new live album, “Root Work”: “Touchstones, as I see them, would be Traffic's ‘Low Spark Of High-Heeled Boys’, possibly some live Dead, some vintage-era Tubby/Jammy,” writes Michael, enticingly.

Much to love from the Woodsist label these past few months, and this debut from White Fence is especially great. White Fence is a guy called Tim Presley, who also seems to have some kind of role in Austin’s Strange Boys; coming, I should plug again, to Club Uncut on June 24.

Something slightly uncomfortable about wondering how much music remains unreleased in the Jack Rose archives, following his passing at the end of last year. It’s scant consolation for his loved ones, I’m sure, that the rest of us are keen on getting unheard music from him for a while longer.

I must admit that my knowledge of Graham Nash’s solo career was virtually non-existent until the release of that box set and reissue of “Songs For Beginners” a couple of years back. I can’t pretend that I’ve subsequently investigated much further, in spite of the allure of the coat of questions and the answer hat, and your helpful suggestions on the “Song For Beginners” blog.

In the two or three years since Ariel Pink put out an album, it seems that a lot of undergroundish American music has fallen under the thrall of his curious discography. From hypnagogic pop to chillwave, and all faintly daft genres in between, Pink’s music has become a kind of touchstone for bands who specialise in distressed, strung-out lo-fi renderings of the mainstream music of their youth or beyond (focusing on the ‘80s, as a rule).

There are some bands that somewhat cluelessly, from album to album, I tend to forget I like. Portland’s Blitzen Trapper probably fall into that category. I was re-reading what I wrote about their “Wild Mountain Nation” back in 2007, about how much I enjoyed it, how much I enjoyed “Field Rexx” before that, then more or less forgot about them. I have a vaguely optimistic feeling, however, that “Destroyer Of The Void” will make more of a lasting impact.

Been pondering this one for a while and, as I possibly implied in the blog about James Murphy’s “Greenberg” soundtrack, it’s hard not to conclude that the third LCD Soundsystem album is a bit of a letdown.

A packed Borderline gets suitably rowdy later on, when Port O’Brien turn in a surprisingly rocking set. For the moment, though, the crowd’s hushed. Walking in on Laura Gibson, mid-song, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. People are hanging on her every word, their muted quiet close to something like reverence.

Not exactly a Great Lost Column or anything, but here, as promised, is the piece on Sir Richard Bishop that fell out of the current issue of Uncut to make room for David Cavanagh's superb piece on Alex Chilton. Talking of the issue, by the way, thanks for your Great Lost Albums suggestions here; please keep them coming, and we'll feature as many as we can in a forthcoming issue of the mag.