It's stagnation time again here in Limey-land. Yup, English rock has gone to the dogs again: we're out in the cold and we don't even have a Bob Dylan touring earnestly to dupe us out of our inertia for even a couple of months.

For a start, the extent of our malady appears to be such that it has even penetrated the ever-so-secluded zones of activity inhabited by the rock pantheon. The Stones stumble on as ever, fuzzedout and restless. First it's a live album, then a studio album, then... Jagger, trapped so far into his personal imagegames, can't decide whether the Stones" collective pride can handle featuring non-originals on the new album. And oh what a turn-up: the band's pet zombie Bill Wyman, is the first out with "the solo album."