Back to the days of the long-player

What it is not, however, is a technological treatise. You will read nothing here of the pre-history of the long-player, the "programme transcription" discs produced by RCA Victor in 1930 or the V-discs produced for the US troops during the war.

Nor does he say anything about the failed 16RPM discs which featured speeches by Churchill and Lenin, among others. He doesn't refer to the war between Columbia's 12-inch LPs and the RCA seven-inch 45s, though the story of the latter would be equally enthralling.

What Elborough is about here is the musical impact of this format, the way in which it popularised Vivaldi, Frank Sinatra and Emerson, Lake and Palmer in roughly equal measure, allowing lower echelon jazz soloists to noodle on long after their inspiration had run out of steam.

It is a pity the book has no index, because some of the anecdotes are so telling and so indicative of the assiduous research that lies behind the author's engaging prose that one would like to look up the story of the two US kids who committed suicide after decoding a "backwards" message on a Judas Priest album - "Some might be willing to kill themselves rather than listen to a Judas Priest LP," Elborough comments dryly - or Richard Williams's claim that, if Wagner were alive today, he'd be working with King Crimson.

But, if you skim its pages looking for this or that story, you'll inevitably end up discovering a new nugget to divert you. It's that kind of book.

KARL DALLAS