CUH, some people have all the luck. Let's take 70s disco disseminators Full-Tilt Boogie (Beaminster Town Hall, Saturday, 8.30, £6) by way of example.

Word reaches me that these singularly well-starred ingenues recently performed at a private party attended by the likes of Jordan (whoever that is - used to be in New Kids On The Block if I remember rightly) and Lady Victoria Hervey among a host of other A-list celebrities and glittering debs.

Sigh... I did a gig once at which a girl called Debs was in the audience, but that's about it as far as my experience of High Society goes.

Perhaps I'd have fared better if I too, like the members of Full-Tilt Boogie, habitually sported hot retro fashion items like an afro, a feather boa and a bijou set of flares. These fashions open doors, I am reliably informed - while simultaneously getting caught in the doors in question.

Speaking of fashion, you'll no doubt have noticed that from time to time the Lonergan and myself get a bit... left behind... by the rapid turnover of genres and sub-genres in, whoo whoo, the cray-zee world of rock & roll.

Only the other day I found him sobbing in a darkened room, listening to the run-off groove of an old 78 on his gramophone. "It's all been downhill since Buddy died," he bubbled.

You have to understand, it all gets a bit bewildering for those of us who can remember when there were only two channels on the telly and people only wore shoes on Sundays, etc.

The young 'uns tend to get a bit teed off with us sometimes, none more so than Dying Day (Finn M'Couls, Friday), who are not unreasonably fed to the back teeth with erroneous descriptions of their metier as 'nu-metal' or, worse, 'alt-rock'.

We have it on the very best authority - Dying Day themselves - that the music they perform is best termed 'science-ninja metal', a 'carefully mixed and modernised brew of death and black metal, with the melodic emphasis of old school heavy metal'.

Good, that's cleared that up. Where 'metal' is concerned, the Lonergan is still mired in the era of smelting iron ore, while for my part, Dying Day's thoughtful gift of their new CD (Mimulus) will come in extremely handy when I'm fumbling for suitable adjectives in the future - ta much.

Naughty Rhythms is a generous package of bands whose appeal transcends the requirements of 'gentlemen of a certain age'

We're on rather more solid ground where the Naughty Rhythms tour (Weymouth Pavilion, Monday, 7.30pm, £15, tickets on (01305) 783225) is concerned - a generous package, matron, of bands whose appeal cheerfully transcends the requirements of 'gentlemen of a certain age'.

From the left, we have Canned Heat, still helmed by original drummer Adolfo 'Fito' De La Parra (our hats are off to the late Bob Hite and unsung genius Al 'Blind Owl' Wilson), Dr Feelgood, The Kursaal Flyers and John Otway with Richard Hogarth.

Canned Heat were, of course, responsible for some of the most convincing white blues performances of the late '60s blues boom - thinking particularly of the uncanny On The Road Again, with a genuinely haunted Al Wilson vocal that hovers in an eerie hinterland between major and minor keys - no mean achievement.

Dr Feelgood, meanwhile, laid the Tarmac for the punk revolution with the stripped-down, beefed-up R&B of Down By The Jetty, while The Kursaal Flyers nipped in quick at the height of the pub rock era to score a top 20 hit with Little Does She Know.

That single, by the way, was produced by the Wombletastic Mike Batt, but criminologists may care to note that the Kursaals' first single, and indeed album, was produced by Jonathan King, who was taking a close personal interest in the Southend boys at the time, having just lost 10cc, in a management sense. He had been discharged by 10cc, in effect. In the end, the Kursaals never quite rose to... (best to leave it there).

John Otway, to the uninitiated, is a national treasure - a very great man who has made a career out of 'snatching defeat from the jaws of victory'.

Frankly, you'd be a churl and a fuddy-duddy to pass up the opportunity to see all of these noblemen under one roof: Get your tickets sharpish.

Finally, there's just room to mention Brighton's My Deaf Audio (Finn M'Couls, Weymouth, Tuesday, supported by Chlorophilia - is this the real spelling of your name, chaps?), who are roaring through the locale with a set of Kerrang-approved rock belters, like 'Prong meets the Foo Fighters in a blender' according to one overheated scribe.

Can't say fairer than that. Go see.