When he died, a generation (or three) were as bereaved as if he were family, such was his place in our musical lives. So here’s another chance, via 30 years of his articles, to let the great man’s wearily mellow tones and life-affirming sarkiness infuse your evenings. All you need to complete the picture is a can of Tizer, some maths homework and your finger on a cassette-recorder pause button.

It was originally going to be called Warped records, trivia fans. A scrap-packed coffee-table compendium on the Sheffield label, from the bleep era, through the ‘intelligent’ techno rave-backlash, up to cutting edge filmmakers. Despite a section on Sheffield’s electronic prehistory, it’s fairly light on context. Lashings of Designers’ Republic artwork and a solid 1989-2005 discography though.

Written like a New Romantic video, every sentence swirls around in dry ice and contrast lighting, wearing a batwing blouse. Clearly a chart-friendly cash-in but also a solid biog, including interviews with Oakey and the girls, quotes and clippings from the Heaven 17 half of the band, plus a decent discography and the great Martin Rushent telling production stories. Now back to that cocktail bar.

Wagnerian epics to triple quadrophonic concept albums: the LP brought it all home. A smart history of listening, from 33 beating 78, up to the iPod uprising. Great details – his charity shop theory of tastelessness, the scandalous first edit (an operatic high C), even the well-worn pop stories feel fresh. But Elborough don’t dance: DJ-mix albums, a key innovation, get no mention.

Like the Swindon man's recreation of the Taj Mahal made entirely out of breadsticks, The Bootleg Guide is a magnificent folly. Interviews with key disco editors/mixers, plus a definitive list of every bootleg and classic edit you’ve ever heard of and quite a few you haven’t. The disco equivalent of an overrun potting shed, this is a collector’s must-have.

“Alright geez, hold this huge bag of money could you, I’ve just got to fix the smoke machine.” While you were off your tits dancing in a cowshed, Wayne, founder of the Genesis raves, was coining it hand over fist, outsmarting the filth, facing down shooters, and generally living the life of smiley. A picture of reticent modesty, the Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels of acid house.

Though the name came from Knuckles’ disco edits and the musical spark from Europe, with On & On, Jesse was the first to get Chicago’s home-grown minimalism onto vinyl, and here he stakes his claim as the originator of house music. A well-written, detailed and personal tale, evoking Chi-town’s teen heroes and the music biz villains who stole their thunder (including a good old Tong-lashing).