Spike Jones lives!

When we think about American humour, we really mean urban, New York humour; and on Manhattan, although Polish, Irish and other noisy cultures took root, the attitude we have to associate with the Island has always been Jewish.

While we're on Manhattan, look up the music. Before and after the birth of rock 'n' roll, the best in pop was coming out of the east-coast collision between trad Jewish and the Blues, from the Gershwins to the prolific sweatshop writers of the Brill Building to - well - Bob Dylan.

And right there in the middle was Spike Jones, dedicated to taking the mickey out of everything round him and while he was at it, mixing it in such a way that predated the 'invention' of Postmodernism. But no matter what the City Slickers got on to, they always sounded like a bunch of clever old friends having a good time at a Jewish wedding. I'll bet Gilad Atzmon, a bit of a joker himself, could fit in there easily enough if the time barrier could be lifted.

I've selected one recording by the Mad Maestro, which, although it's relatively laid-back, has a fair cross-section of the kind of noise you should expect in his platters. Another favourite, one of the first pop records I paid any attention to, was I went to your wedding, which ends triumphantly on the wrong note, really grinding it in. This, I am sure, had a profound effect on the formation of my own creative sensibility.

It helps, being born a Glaswegian: with the big cinema and dance culture there, "American" culture has always had a stronger hold than it has in the rest of Scotland or indeed the UK; and Glasgow gave birth to Dr Crock and His Crackpots as well as the 5th Goon, George Chisholm. Glaswegians naturally got the joke right away.

Spike Jones is a little like the Marx Brothers in that it's the whole idea we like, and no single tune or film quite sums it all up with the whole schtick. You may get an inkling, though. And your neighbours will, too!