In November '83, shortly after having moved to London, I discovered a band that pulled together the music that I'd become so excited about back in the North of England. The band was called the Fleshtones and they were in the UK to promote their latest album, "Hexbreaker," on IRS Records. Supporting label mates the Alarm at the Savoy Ballroom in Tufnell Park, incidentally above what is now the Dirty Water Club, I discovered a group that effortlessly captured the very qualities that I believed, rightly or wrongly, to be at the heart of rock'n'roll music: humour; warmth; vulnerability; honesty; passion; and enthusiasm over ability.

The 'tones set that night comprised of catchy-as-hell originals such as "Shadowline" and "Screaming Skull" alongside choice covers that ran from Shadows of Knight to Lighnin' Slim. After dodging coins and beer from hostile members of the audience for thirty minutes, the 'tones jumped off the stage and headed down the middle of the auditorium while performing a Sun Ra inspired interpretation of "Roman Gods". It was too good to be true. An over-excited conversation afterwards with their saxophonist revealed that the Fleshtones had a deep affection for classic RnR, Soul, RnB, '60s Garage Rock and British Invasion bands such as the Troggs and the Creation. Wow, talk about being sold on their mission to bring Super Rock to the world!

Given the 'tones aversion to our "damp and soggy island", no doubt due to UK music press bad-mouthing down the years, I've not seen them as much as I would have liked to. However, each concert that I've managed to attend has been accompanied by the sort of magic that the kids clustered around Jerry Lee Lewis' piano on a long forgotten British TV pop show must have felt. Simply put, the 'tones have delivered that all too rare RnR magic every single time. Why live in the past when the price of a Fleshtones' concert ticket guarantees access to such timeless fun and excitement?

Fast forward to Christmas 2001 and I decide to see an in-store appearance by a new Swedish band called the Hives. Perhaps it was Max Bell's recommendation in Hot Tickets and his comparison to "American hip-shakers like the Flamin' Groovies and Fleshtones" that convinced me to catch the 134 bus to Tottenham Court Road. He was right, for what I saw was so damn close to the spirit of the band that stole my heart at the Savoy Ballroom back in 1983 that it brought tears to my eyes. Those loveable Swedes even had a song, "Supply & Demand," that borrowed from the 'tones, a little ditty called "Watch This!" if you want to know, and had the nerve to freeze mid-song just like the Super Rock gang demonstrate on the "Speed Connection" and "Power Stance" album sleeves.

Make no mistake, the Hives are a fantastic band for not only do they adhere to the same "let's not take ourselves too seriously onstage" attitude but their fans enjoy the music regardless of whether or Esquerita or Rockin' Kid Thomas form a part of their regular diet. Who cares anyway as long as they are tapping into the same elemental spirit? Since the Hives have begun to appear on the pop pages of the daily papers, the UK has become smitten by a fresh wave of garage bands, many of which, I reckon, share the same musical values as the Fleshtones. Talk about true vindication of the hexbreaking sound. Although it's great to see the likes of the D4 and Mooney Suzuki receive column inches, I can't help but feel a tinge of sadness that many of the musicians who kept the RnR flame burning for so long remain ignored.