As years went by, such highlights became rarer. I was shocked to find out that another of my musical heroes Robert Wyatt had been asked to take the disco lights from his wheelchair before 'I'm a Believer' , because it was deemed 'in bad taste'!
'The Old Grey Whistle Test' took over as the most important music programme on tv and, though it could never influence my tastes like John Peel's radio show, its presenter Bob Harris did manage to play some great music and conduct some memorable interviews as well.
I always remember his interview with guitarist Paul Kossoff of a band I much admired, Free.Kossoff was a sadly underrated guitar-player, never flash or prone to over-indulgent solos; he was always sparse and emotional in style, an electric guitar equivalent of Hemingway's prose.
But he was also tragically addicted to hard drugs and Harris's interview failed to get more than inarticulate mumblings from this great musician. When people talk about Clapton and Jeff Beck, Kossoff and Peter Green ( from the early Fleetwood Mac) should be mentioned in the same breath.
Many bands made a lasting impact because of 'Whistle Test' appearances, such as Bob Marley & the Wailers, who managed to take reggae to a different plane altogether. But when Whisperin' Bob refused to acknowledge punk and it's anyone-can-play-three-chord philosophy, that was him finished. Annie Nightingale tried hard to bring it up to the times, with punk and New Wave, but its format became predictable.
I liked the anarchic spontaneity of 'The Tube' and better still, the many musical revelations of 'White Room', but until 'Later With Jools' there were no programmes which fully reflected my own increasingly eclectic tastes: from jazz and world music, to Americana and rock. Jools did introduce me to many bands and singers I might never have heard otherwise, especially in the world music area, with Mariza from Portugal (a sublime fado singer), Rokia Traore from Mali (the only African who can celebrate Zen Buddhism in French!) and Tinariwen from the Touareg tribe,with their hypnotic desert sounds.
Despite this, in recent years Jools has become increasingly frustrating.His formula is very wearing, with the same epithets applied like football manager's cliches and incredibly ordinary artists from the past dubbed as 'legendary' just because they've managed to reach 60 and still be gigging!
Above all, I keep thinking about the very greatest musicians of the last eleven years who haven't actually appeared on his programme and have produced the best albums of our times. From Thea Gilmore to DeVotchKa and from Sufjan Stevens to Tom Russell, Jools Holland has missed out on so many. Even one of the finest albums of recent years, the Super Furries 'Dark Days/Light Years' never got a look in, while Kelly and the Boyz seemed to have a residency at one stage.
All the same, when Jools isn't on there is a void. There's a pressing need for at least one more music programme, equally eclectic, but with a more flexible and dynamic structure including footage of gigs, recording news and download latest. There must also be room for innovative collaborations between music and film.
In less restrictive times, it would be wonderful if BBC Wales took the leap. Listening again to someone like Eels ( don't think I've seen him on Jools either!) makes me realise how devoid of musical imagination so much mainstream material is nowadays. We need a programme to encourage those who defy the limits, take risks, break out.
WHISTLE TEST FRIDAYS
Fridays was 'Whistle Test' day,
and after a few jars
at the Union bar
it was a procession
into the lights-out tv room.
The moustachioed pipe-smoking Zen,
the hippies down from the mountains
with their 'far out' dogs
who walked nodding, like their owners ;
the couple on everything
who had a cat called 'Man'
who clawed up curtains when stoned.
Anarchists, Trots and Commies, the lot
all silent as a congregation
as the high priest of music
Whisperin' Bob Harris was so laid back
you could see why, years later,
punk grabbed him by the goolies
and swung him senseless.
We waited for heroes or discoveries,
musicians who have long since OD'd
or resorted to Zimmer Frames
and sometimes, someone like Tom Waits or Kevin Coyne
or the crazy Captain would alter our brains
and we would utter - 'Yes! I've been saved!'
Those times music would resurrect dreary days
when lives were somebody's else's theories.
And we could hear a person whistling
outside that old Tin Pan Alley,
a doorman or janitor; a melody
to blow our minds away
like wind off the bay at Aber.