Graham Parker And The Rumour- Stick To Me

I want to make it perfectly clear—there is NO such thing as too much Graham Parker. None. Zero.  The concept simply does not exist. I could turn this entire blog into a 24/7, non-stop Graham Parker Appreciation Network and shrine—album by album, song by song, lyrical breakdowns, deep cuts, live versions, B-sides—and it would not only be justified, it would be a public service and would feel completely normal, healthy, and possibly even medically recommended (in my world, anyway).  

This past weekend I achieved a level of Graham Parker devotion normally reserved for ancient cults and tax audits: I ordered TWO of his albums—one autographed, because clearly I deserve luxury—and a book from his record company. At this point I’m not just a fan; I’m basically the CFO of the Graham Parker Merch Acquisition Department.

If SiriusXM had even an ounce of decency, there would already be a dedicated Graham Parker channel and I would be not just a charter member, but probably calling in daily like some kind of obsessive lunatic requesting the same songs I already own five versions of. Until that glorious day arrives, Underground Garage is basically the lone outpost keeping the faith alive, and for that, I salute them.

Stick to Me drops in 1977, right as Graham is starting to get some traction in the U.S., and where am I? Twelve years old, listening to whatever watered-down, focus-grouped nonsense my local radio stations were spoon-feeding me. And let me tell you—they were NOT playing Graham Parker. No, no, that would have required taste, courage, and possibly a functioning spine.  Apparently, that was considered “too interesting” for daytime programming.

My real introduction came later—late-night radio, when the DJs would go rogue and clearly decide, “You know what? Let’s actually play good music for a few hours.” That’s when Graham sneaks in, and suddenly it’s like—what IS this? Who IS this? Why does this sound about 1,000 times better than everything I hear during the day? I immediately realized that my daytime listening consisted mostly of what can only be described as premium-grade “el crapo.”

From that point forward, it’s game over. You don’t casually listen to Graham Parker—you fall down the rabbit hole. Hard. Naturally, this led to a daily routine: stay up late, discover amazing music, then spend the next day wondering why the radio suddenly sounded like it had given up on life.

And yes, Graham has already shown up on this blog four times. FOUR. Honestly, I’m showing admirable restraint. I do need to go back and add some photos to those posts, especially now that I’ve picked up a few items that further justify—if not outright demand—additional Graham content. Not that I need justification, but it’s nice to pretend.

Because this isn’t just appreciation anymore. This is a full-blown Graham Parker situation.