JULIAN COPE/// FRIED /// POLYGRAM RECORDS ///

Back in 1984, a lot of people were convinced that Julian Cope was insane. There were some crazy stories going round about the former teen heartthrob and lead singer of the Teardrop Explodes. Rumour had it that he had started living on a traffic island. And when he wasn't there he was hanging around Paul McCartney's trout farm, trying to sell songs to all the people who visited. There was also a story that even Cope insists is true about a game he invented called 'sock.' To play 'sock,' the singer would pull a sock over his head, crawl out of the window of a fast moving car, over the roof and back in the other side. The only rule was not to die.

Then the mad-haired LSD guzzler appeared on the sleeve of his second solo LP stark naked (apart from the giant turtle shell strapped on his back), scrabbling around on his knees in the dirt next to a large red toy truck with the word 'FRIED' emblazoned on the side in large gold letters.

The record was quickly dismissed, seemingly on the basis of the (admittedly unusual) cover alone. Regarded as little more than the latest manifestation of Cope's acid-soaked slide into obscurity, it was critically panned, reached a chart position of 85 in the UK (where it remained for just one week), and was barely even released around the rest of the world.

But! The man may not have known what day of the week it was, but he certainly knew what he was doing. Fried has more than stood the test of time as a record of rare tenderness and fragility.

As legendary DJ John Peel said when he played the track "Search Party" on his show, "some rum thoughts run through that boy's head." But those thoughts were remarkably coherent. The songs on Fried make more sense than any of the middle-of-the-road nonsense and non-sequiturs we're nowadays subjected to by boring GAP and Starbucks rockers like Coldplay. Cope's lyrics contain some of the most eloquent ruminations on mortality, love and loss ever committed to disc, alongside sharp political critiques about hunting and the death penalty and some - definitely unique - ruminations about toy cars. The music is by turns sweet and soft or sharp, passionate and raging. What's more, it's all damn good fun. Just because it's profound doesn't mean it won't make you want to dance around in front of your stereo like a Teletubby on a trampoline. And by the time you get to the CD reissue's bonus track, Mic Mak Mok, the only available course of action is to sing along in happy abandon.

Altogether now: "Mic Mak Mok. Ah Mic Mak Mok, ahh- urgghhhh gdoww!". It's the critics who are the fools! Fried is great. Run out and buy it!