Fela Kuti - "O D O O [edit]". Okay, screw Bono. This is the egomaniac I want at the head of my political movement. Nobody would be poor, nobody would be hungry, nobody would be unhappy. Racism: poof! Sexism: pow! Homophobia: zap! Instead - cowbell, chumchumstrum of guitar, brass, "ga ga goo goo". We'd build buildings that sway to music, everyone would know how to surf, love would be the easiest thing in the world. I guess the world would have a black president, too, which is worth a shot.

The best part is maybe that apathy would be annhiliated. How can you be apathetic with those horns tooting at you? If Fela looks you in the eyes, you'll take a bullet for him. If this Revolutionary Army comes by, even the tories will somersault into position, take up arms. Forget white wristbands - we would all get hot air balloons, every colour in the rainbow, floral patterns and cool modernist stripes, and our balloons would march (okay, bob) to the seats of government, nudging and bumping, so insistent and so glad that people would for sure pay attention. Cause even George Bush couldn't turn down Fela Kuti, "O D O O", truth, compassion, and a hundred million hot-air ballons.

[buy Black President: The Best Best of Fela Kuti, or one of his 77 albums]

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Elbow - "Mexican Standoff". Just when you've given up on British guitar rock, Elbow comes along and reminds us why they were always the most interesting of Radiohead's children. Sure, we're a long way from the indie-prog suites of their debut, but this album's got a spark that at times bursts into flame. Guy Garvey's feelings don't just prance about over silvery piano-chords -- they punch holes in the walls.

"Mexican Standoff" begins with one of my favourite possible recorded sounds - a yell from the back of a room. And then we're off, clapgalloping down a hill, headlong into... what? A thicket? A moor? An army of Moors?

I admit that these are clumsy metaphors, but how else do you articulate the majesty of this song's ending moments? The electric guitar that buzzes like shields catching the light; percussion like horse-hooves; the rising warcry chant. Garvey may be nervous but he isn't going to be cowed into spitefulness. Instead he makes his band radiant, triumphant. He'll nab the princess by the sureness of his sword, the dazzle of his smile, the sweetness of his song.

I assume it ends as it does because Elbow won, so they don't need to strut around any more. To the bedroom!

[pre-order for September]