Lists such as this are all intensely personal affairs. None of the albums which follow have much to do with Hibs, each other or anything else. Nor have they been selected on the basis of whether the artist would be a babe or a minger in a Hibs top. If you're looking for the likes of Natasha Bedingfield (babe), Michelle from Pop Rivals (minger) or Will Young (as a singer he should have stuck to refereeing the SPL), you are in for a disappointment. As you are if you seek Orbital or techno anthems - if you enjoy poking barbed wire through your ears, do it in your own time, please, sonny.

Nothing here has seriously troubled the racks in Virgin for a long time, and most of it not even at the time. But whether you are looking for something to liven up that bus journey to Hampden, or to chill you out after yet another humping, every album has a small contribution to make to that classic mix of wild optimism and deep despair known as Hibbieness.

Hard Nose The Highway (Van Morrison)

At first glance the Belfast Cowboy may seem an unlikely inclusion. The portly curmudgeon admittedly has his detractors, though if any of them fancy a square go with his number one fan, they're welcome to take their chances (I married her and know better).

As an acquaintance of mine from the Six Counties once memorably remarked on hearing Morrbhison's album with the Chieftains, Irish Heartbeat, "He's still just a fat grumpy Prod when you get right down to it". But it's still Van I instinctively reach for in despairing moments such as the early hours of the morning after having been on the wrong end of a 5-1 humping from the Yams. And you suspect that anyone who records a song with the opening line "It's not easy being green…" instinctively understands the true nature of Hibbieness. What's the sound of one hand clapping? Tynecastle possibly.

Candy Philosophy (Michael Marra)

Dundonian Michael Marra may be Scotland's best kept musical secret. This pint sized poet in blue suede shoes effortlessly turns out quirky little songs which are unmistakably Scottish yet undeniably international. Who else could not only write a song about Dundee United goalkeeping legend Hamish McAlpine but have it recorded by Leo Sayer?

Marra's song Hermless was once the subject of an almost-serious campaign by fellow musicians to have it adopted as the national anthem in preference to the dirge which is Flower of Scotland. And who else could take as his subject King Kong's Visit to Glasgow (so he bumps into the floodlights, and the crowd began to sing – why don't you take him to Ibrox, there we think he might blend in)? Pure dead inspired.

Sunshine on Leith (Proclaimers)

I have a sneaking fondness for the terminally unhip Reid twins which goes beyond the anthemic status of this album's title track, and even transcends their dodgy Scot Nat politics. This stems from the fact that many years ago, just about the time that Letter From America was breaking, Charlie stayed in the flat below me. As well as being a diehard Hibbie, Charlie is a thoroughly decent guy. He still nods amiably to me in that I know your face from somewhere sort of way when our paths occasionally cross. If he fails to do so, it's Craig. I could never tell them apart even back then.

By the way, I know that some of you get offended when I take a pop at the Nats. Please don't bother to write again, I'll just re-read your letters from last time. You'd be better off at your Adult Literacy classes anyway.

Born To Run (Bruce Springsteen)

Forget the various greatest hits collections or the patchy live sets, this is the album which sealed the status of The Boss as the authentic voice of blue collar America. From the opening burst of Thunder Road to the last blast of Clarence Clemmons' sax on Jungleland, this is the real thing. Turned up really loud, a perfect album with which to annoy those Jambo neighbours after you've worn out your copies of Sunshine on Leith and Hibee Hibernian. And the perfect album to lift the spirits of the most depressed Hibbie after that long drive back from Hampden after being beaten by a works team. Born to Run? Was he thinking of Arthur Duncan maybe?

Back to Basics (Billy Bragg)

Few contemporary songwriters take football as their subject matter, and even fewer do it convincingly. The Braggster is a sparking exception to the rule. Football features as a metaphor for life in several of his best songs. When I first saw the title God's Footballer from the excellent Don't Try This At Home album, I naturally assumed that the song was about Pat Stanton. Turns out that it is actually about some old English guy who turned God-botherer late in his career (eat your heart out, Marvin Andrews) but it's a decent enough song for all that.

It is hard to single out a definitive Bragg album, but a good place to start on CD would be Back To Basics, which is basically his first two vinyl mini albums – 21 songs for a bargain £7.99 (pay no more). With rough, heartfelt versions of the likes of A New England (we can but hope), Milkman of Human Kindness and St Swithin's Day, it's a must for every self respecting Hibbie. Back to Basics – isn't that what Mogga's all about?

Exile on Coldharbour Lane (Alabama 3)

Those who only know Alabama 3 by the track Woke Up This Morning from the opening credits of The Sopranos are missing a real treat. Is there such an animal as sweet, pretty, country acid house music? You bet there is – just over 60 minutes of the cleverest techno you will hear. There isn't a duff track on the whole album. U Don't Dans 2 Tekno, Ain't Goin' To Goa and a pumped up version of John Prine's country classic Sound of the Speed of Loneliness are particular standouts.

You can still get Exile in Fopp for seven quid. If you don't agree that this is the great neglected masterpiece of this and every other century, your money will be refunded (but not by me, ya dumpling). The Hibbie connection? I'm a Hibbie and I'm telling you it's a feckin' awesome album. That's all you need to know to become a member of the First Presleytarian Church of Elvis the Divine (UK).

Can't Buy A Thrill (Steely Dan)

The Dan only recorded six studio albums but any one of those would have been enough to guarantee iconic status. The band are allegedly named after a dildo in William Burrough's Naked Lunch and let's face it, over the years we've all had to suffer a long line of dildos on the park, some of whom make Colin Murdock look like Pele. I reckon that this, their first, remains the Dan's best album. There is hardly a duff cut – Do It Again (7-0 – yes please), Dirty Work (a critique of Pressley's playing style perhaps) and the self-explanatory Turn That Heartbeat Over Again. Superb.

The Way It is (Bruce Hornsby)

Unhip, uncool, never likely to get played in any club frequented by Cashie uber-hero Irvine Welsh. No real chart success of which to speak. But this is still a great album. If eternal sideman Hornsby had done nothing else in his career but contribute that brilliant keyboard riff to Bonnie Raitt's definitive after eleven knickers off song I Can't Make You Love Me he would still be a massive talent. But he has. He recorded this album.

Sail On (Dick Gaughan)

Gaughan is perhaps the best thing not in a bottle ever to come out of Leith. A solo performer who transcends the tag, Gaughan is popular even with those who say they don't like folk music. He remains essentially a live experience and none of his many albums fully capture the intensity of one of his concerts, but if you had to select only one it might be Sail On – as modern sounding and varied as you are ever likely to want. He once recorded a song called Stand Up For Judas, which is stirring stuff but nowt to do with the Ginger One.

Joe's Garage (Frank Zappa)

Musical casual Uncle Meat recorded many great albums but this is my favourite. From the knowing Catholic Girls to the frankly disgusting Why Does It hurt When I Pee? There is something here to offend everyone.

OK Computer (Radiohead)

No, this particular computer is not bloody OK, nor is any other Radiohead album. Wanky, self-indulgent noodlings by egotistical English miserablists. Thom Yorke - the tosser's tosser. Pink Floyd were doing this sort of thing better and with proper tunes 30 years ago. The CDs may make a decent coaster for your coffee mug or something. Otherwise, avoid with extreme prejudice.