OK.First of all, let's explain the beard. It was an anti-work protest, following musical differences at my last job. I liked music. They liked cash. And, now I'm a music consultant. A fanciful title which means I can continually re-file my albums while working for the likes of Q magazine, the mighty Kerrang!, Universal Records, MOJO Radio, the ICA, Glastonbury Festival and now Yahoo!

The beard now resides in a box at home, a fond reminder of when the music literati at MOJO would compare me to Bonnie Prince Billy and occasionally The Band's Garth Hudson (second from right). Of course, it all went pear-shaped when my daughter's "friend" said I looked like West Country "comedian" Jethro. For every Beach Boys' aficionado who thought I bore a passing resemblance to Carl Wilson, there was always a train guard who thought I might be an itinerant terrorist, or someone who'd blurt out: "ZZ Top."

Pre-shave, I was Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now or Paddy McAloon from Prefab Sprout (obviously when he had his large, eccentric beard), hiding away until everyone agreed that I'm right or groovy (delete as appropriate). These days, I can listen to Prince Buster rightnext to Foals, Moondog alongside Sigur Ros and it all makes perfect sense. Although the dog looks confused.

Actually,Prefab Sprout gave me a near-God moment once, so to speak, when their When Love Breaks Down soundtracked a tired and emotional late ‘80s love rift. Those memories returned recently with the re-issue of their album Steve McQueen, which celebrates 25 years oftheir label Kitchenware. I always had a soft spot for Kitchenware back when I was a writer on Sounds, it was proper indie with Hurrah! and The Daintees.

Anyway, McAloon, bearded or not, is a bona fide songwriter. An unsung genius as anyone who's discovered his I Trawl The Megaherz will tell you. From his dark days, in 2003, when he was worried about losing his voice, he lifted spoken phrases from the radio to punctuate some gorgeous melodies. It is a very special album. Otherworldly. Exotic. Totally unconventional, a long way from the sharp pop of Steve McQueen. 

You'd have thought the Sprout's pert ‘80s pop would have made it to the soundtrack of the fantastic Son Of Rambow movie, which is set in the ‘80s Britain and hosts many anthems from back in the day. Directed by Hammer And Tongs who also made Hitchhiker'sGuide and hundreds of great music videos including Blur's milk carton saga Coffee And TV (below) and Help The Aged by Pulp, with the memorable tracking shot of Jarvis Cocker on a stairlift, it's genius. OK, it's daft. And ironic. But, genius nonetheless.

Son Of Rambow's pivotal scene is in the sixth form common room with Love Action by The Human League and Cars by Gary Numan playing while teenagers develop suitably ridiculous dance steps, tousle their eccentric hair, inhale smelly rubbers and mix Space Dust with Coke. I won't go into the plotline and analyse the socio-political story of outsiderism, I'll leave that to Mark Kermode on FiveLive (Friday at three, he hates everything. Exceptional rants). Suffice to say, it has some great music - including The Modern Lovers' Egyptian Reggae. A masterpiece in its own three minute time.

So, why am I writing The Church Of Dave? Well. I'm a music obsessive. My son is named after a Long Ryders' song, I went to Redondo Beach on holiday once because Patti Smith sang about it (nb: a cursory look at the lyrics would underline what a poor idea that was), I get excited when I hear something new. Today, apart from Feline Groovy, a compilation of 24 tracks about cats on Ace, including the Top Cat theme alongside The Coasters, Little Willie John and, of course, Tom Jones, I'm hot under the collar about the debut album by White Denim from Austin, Texas.

Not out till June in the UK, Workout Holiday was the subject of much debate on Saturday, when my mate Jeremy, the occasional archaeologist and musical anthropolgist, dissected its wayward timeline, form and structure over an early evening G&T. Supertramp, Minutemen, Cold War Kids, Antony And The Johnsons, early Chili Peppers, Black Flag, Talking Heads were all mentioned as influences but its genealogy makes no sense. It doesn't sound like any of its constituent parts. We plainly hadn't drunk enough.

The next morning I spoke to their agent and booked them for the Q stage at Glastonbury, The Queen's Head. That, in itself, will be an esoteric mix with The Pigeon Detectives, Santogold, Dengue Fever, Ron Sexsmith, Teddy Thompson, Elbow, Congregation, Ladyhawke, The Duke Spirit, The Holloways, Kate Nash, Dawn Kinnard and TheCocknbullkid all confirmed with more to follow. And, I'm also told, it's not going to rain. No, really.

To be honest, it was amazing I managed anything the other morning. The night before, I put on the launch of this year's MOJO Honours List where The Fall played in HMV in Oxford Street (very poor quality picture below), along with Pete Molinari. Mark E Smith was all lairy complainant, forever upping the bass volume, putting his hands all over his wife's Korg, berating the world in time-honoured style. He is a formidable northern spirit, like an irate news agent, with a carbon-monoxide-soaked garage band whose pummelling riffs were intense. Pete Molinari's vocals earlier in the evening were similarly  tremendous, he is a spirited singer songwriter who deserves his nominationin MOJO's Breakthrough category and he has a fine head of hair to boot.

At lunchtime, HMV had also played host to a blues miasma courtesy of the formidable James Hunter and Son Of Dave(no relation). Hunter sounds like James Brown's gospel soul brother with a BB King guitar break and Son Of Dave's formidable man/beatbox/harmonica was simply awesome. The idea was to showcase the kind of music I put together for MOJO's recent cover mounted CD, The New Directory Of Blues And Soul, which featured Hunter and Molinari along with Sharon Jones And The Dap Kings, Beth Rowley and many more. Actually I got the idea from MOJO's editor Phil Alexander, but don't tell anyone.

My HMV experience obviously wasn't even near enough music for the day. Between the two performances I strayed into SoHo to my favourite record shop, Sounds Of The Universe to get the new album by The Gaslamp Killer. He looks like a laugh in a Manson-esqueway. And he sounds like DJ Shadow. I've been blown away by that ever since. But more of that tomorrow, when I'll be back with news of the musical that Pete Doherty and Carl Barat are working on - look out Lloyd Webber - and a list of the top five greatest Robinson Crusoe-styled beards in music (suggestions welcome). Now, that list would have to include Eden Ahbez (below) who wrote Nature Boy, The Beach Boys' Dennis Wilson, Bonnie Prince Billyand, er...