So there you are, wondering which of the last 12 months’ Turkish 1970s re-releases you should lavish your hard-earned on. Edip Akbayram, for the paisley groaning? Selda Bagcan, for the goosepimple voice and socially conscious message? Gençlik Ile Elele for the dark-sunglasses hipness of the thing? Or Bunalim, because this band sounds like the missing link between Turkish folk, acid rock, and The Guess Who? Bunalim, because I’ve had “Bir Dünya da Bana Ver” on for three days now and it’s still my favourite song of, oh, the past month at least, what with its tricky opening that starts off howling and transforms itself into the most perfect vocal hook this side of “Mehmet Emmi”? Bunalim, because it’s not often that rock music incorporates sixth-century Turkish poetry, or any antique poetry at all, and still manages to sound, unselfconsciously, like the work of a garage band? Bunalim, because no matter whether the musicians really did run naked down Istiklal Street or not, they sound as if it’s something they might have done, and you can’t say that about Akbayram or Bagcan? Ouch, the choices you people have to make. I don’t envy you. Really I don’t.