No-one who saw Little Feat at their peak will want to contest Jon Dale's description of them later in this issue as one of the greatest American bands of their era. Their records were great, but live they were sensational - at least until a not unusual mix of drugs and personality clashes ruined them.

His many fans will no doubt wonder at the absence of anything by Wayne County from the list of Top 50 American punk albums we've compiled as part of this month's cover story on the Ramones. After all, Wayne – who by 1980 was Jayne County, following the necessary surgery – was with his band Queen Elizabeth part of the same Max's Kansas City, Mercer Arts Center and Club 82 scene that nurtured the early New York Dolls.

The Making Of Robert Wyatt's "I'm A Believer" feature in this month's issue reminds me that when it was released in September, 1974, I made it Single Of the Week during a brief but lively stint as Melody Maker's singles reviewer.

If you were a fan, you probably watched with horror, incredulity and fretful concern at the things Lou Reed put himself through in the '70s, especially after the critical and commercial rejection of Berlin hardened an already cynical disposition into an unsparing bitterness and what seemed like a headlong pursuit of self-obliteration. Even more than Keith Richards at the time, Lou seemed the rock star most likely to become a casualty of his addictions.

As she might be said to have started off a trend for confessional song- writing with her 1971 album, Blue, we have put together as part of our celebration of Joni Mitchell's 70th birthday a list of the 50 most soul-baring singer-songwriter albums,

In 1983, I picked up a copy of a book called Stick, on a whim. It was written by someone I hadn't heard of previously: Elmore Leonard, who died in August. The book was brilliant and turned me into an addict.

A number of thoughtful readers have written recently to remind me it will be the 10th anniversary in September of Warren Zevon's death, not that I was likely to forget.

ARE WE ROLLING? I was sorry to read in last month's Uncut that old-school country star Slim Whitman had died, news that had otherwise passed me by. Slim was a great favourite in our house when I was growing up, my father much enamoured of "Rose Marie", which Slim had taken to No 1 on the pop charts, where it stayed for 11 weeks in 1955.

When it's announced that The Rolling Stones are planning a free concert in Hyde Park on July 5, 1969, we decide we have to be there. There are four of us, 16-year-old school friends, music a common bond between us.

ARE WE ROLLING? Before meeting him for the first time recently for the feature in this month's issue, I read a lot of interviews with Tame Impala's Kevin Parker in which he was variously cast as a brooding outsider, a sullen introvert, generally moody, an outcast, someone on the edge of things, inclined to solitary misery.