And so this, is Christmas, And what have you done? Another year over, A new one just begun.

Well, I've become a rock critic. 1972 was the year of the rat and the rock critic. Pack hunting, singing ships arid eating crap. So many bloody words. England supports five music weeklies, three rock monthlies and endless teen magazines. Every newspaper, every mag azine has its critic and a "class" album, like, say, Never A Dull Moment, prob ably gets 60 different reviews in Eng land alone. Rolling Stone now has a cosily cultured British pull-out and rock becomes a round of press receptions and calculated interviews and gossiping in corners. Amidst this lunacy the mag azine of the year was Flash (from Panorama City, California) bargain bin records, no publicity hand-outs, no cups of tea witi:., the Stars. Dave Clark lives. Nobody in England would have the cheek and there aren't many bargain bins. Charlie Gillett unearthed Ne~t' Musical Express' 1958 Critics' Choice. 15 critics and 1 5 worst records of the year included "Little Darlin" (twice by the Diamonds, once by the Glad iolas), "Hound Dog" by Elvis, "I'm Walking" by Fats Domino, Johnny Otis' "Ma, he's making eyea at me" (twice), Frankie Lymon's "I'm not a juvenile delinquent," and "Short Fat Fannie" by Larry Williams. Ho hum, we know better floW, of course.