IF you are of a certain age you may, like me, be able to remember the (for the most part) marvellous Sunday-night gigs staged at The Greyhound, in Park Lane, before its present incarnation as The Blue Orchid.

Among the bands I had the pleasure of seeing there were The Pretty Things, Nils Lofgren, Stray and the unique, the eccentric, the gifted Stackridge.

In all, I saw them at The Greyhound some half-a-dozen times, as well as at other venues in and around London, and each was a hugely enjoyable experience.

They were the first band to play at the first Glastonbury Festival and won friends wherever they pitched tent. Numerous line-up changes, however, took their toll and they disbanded in 1976.

But now they’re back, with three original members, and they have produced this album which, true to the Stackridge blueprint, is almost impossible to categorise.

Mike Evans, Crun Walter and James Warren are ably assisted throughout by new boys John Miller, Richard Stubbings and Tim Robinson.

Between them, the six have produced a set of 14 songs, each individual, yet held together by the same West Country magic all their fans (known as Rhubarb Thrashers) from the ’70s will remember with affection.

The album is populated by the band’s trademark cast of quirky characters and the subjects of the songs are as diverse as ever.

Third song in is a pure pop gem; Something about The Beatles evokes memories of the Fab Four without slavishly copying that band. Comparisons drawn between Stackridge and The Beatles were, of course, helped by the fact that George Martin (before he was a Sir) who produced so many of the Liverpool group’s works was also behind Stackridge’s 1973 album The Man in the Bowler Hat.

Help under doors is a bit of a rocker, featuring Warren’s raw-edged guitar-riffing, and that’s followed by one of the album’s oddities, The vegan’s hatred of fish, written by bassist Walter and sung by violinist Evans.

Evans’ other vocal outing, Wildebeeste, flows seamlessly into Grooving along on the highway on a Monday morning once. Both illustrate Warren’s peerless way with words; the former concerning “Wildebeeste with attache cases heading east . . .” while the latter namechecks heavyweight philosophers Wittgenstein, Hegel and Kant with the jolliest of tunes.

And Drinking and driving highlights the dangers incurred when mixing both activities.

If you enjoyed Stackridge first time around and, like most, lost track of them over the last two decades as you, perhaps, matured, had a family and generally moved on, buy this album and relive the pleasures of your youth.

You can also catch up with what they’re up to by going to their web-site at www. stackridge.com

Either way, you’ll have a lot of fun.

Fred Hall