I'm batting for Lashes (and baseball-batting Erasure)

Despite my recent nigglings at this year's Mercury Music Prize, I still feel the need to tip a winner.

Last year, my bet for Burial got given a hefty Elbow, although my Klaxons tip in 2007 came wonderfully true.

So here's who I'm putting a dime on this year. Bat For Lashes sounds like Suzanne Vega riding a pretty horse which has the face of Kate Bush. This alone is enough to win the Mercury.

BFL's music is indebted to the 80s, but not in as a denim-tearingly obvious way as La Bloody Roux. Who, incidentally, needs to give her keyboards back to Erasure so when I break into their studio, I have something to pummel them with.

Seriously. Vince and Andy should have given up existing 22 years ago, when they were still truly different and interesting.

La Bloody Roux, for that matter, should also have stopped existing 22 years ago. And she's only 21. When Mr La Roux and Mrs La Roux got jiggy in their south London bedsit in order to create a musically and mentally deranged Alison Moyet, someone should have thrown a great big bucket of cold water over them. Then recorded the startled screams. And sold that recording 22 years later on the basis of, yes, this still sounds better than anything that little dampened La Roux sperm would ever have created in its lifetime.

Where was I?...

I suspect Kasabian will be the favourite, although the Mercury's been quite blokey for the last few years and they probably need to tick the chick box in '09. Very cynical I know, but you don't come to this blog because it reads like Hello!, do you?

She deserves it more than the others, though. Who do you tip for the Mercury?

We need a new Mercury Music Prize for people that give a crap about electronic music

There's a sumptuous scene in Danny Boyle's best movie Sunshine where a fullstop-like planet Mercury slinks past a firey, all-powerful sun.

For electronica fans, it represents a brilliant metaphor for the Mercury Music Prize: an insignificant dot backed up by a glowing past that is more distant than you think.

When the Mercury showered Primal Scream with £20,000 for such a far-out album as Screamadelica, beating U2, Simply Red and Young Disciples, it was a kick in the Brit Awards' union jack pants. That was in 1992, remember, when 20 grand was worth about a billion quid..

The kudos reverbarated through the years with Portishead and Roni Size reaching equally dizzy heights. And that's despite the Mercury trying to derail everything by choosing M People in 1994.

I'm not saying this year's list sucks. I've filed Bat For Lashes, Glasvegas or (yawn) Friendly Fires into a big box labelled "shrug", but I'm sure they deserve their success. You may well argue this in the comments section.

But where's the electronica? We've been thrown a brace of bones with Underworld (although never with the ultimate techno album band Orbital), but there's something fundamentally wrong.

In a great piece for Bleep43, Toby Frith searches for any Mercury nods for Warp Records ("the UK’s most important label") and fails. You could make a similar argument for Leaf.

Firth argues it's because electronica immerses itself in singles and live appearances, rather than albums. He's right (think of Windowlicker), but the exclusion from this year's nominations of Squarepusher's Just A Souvenir is criminal.

It's more because of the man rather than the album. The Square one (photo, above, from Bangface) became the darling of the serious press last autumn; if any electronica artist was going to be the Mercury's first true IDM nomination, it was going to be him.

Except it wasn't. Inside that little dot of a prize, there so many are guitars, guitars, guitars, there's little room for a 303. And, as non-nominated Fatboy Slim will tell you, everybody needs a 303.

Maybe we live on a different planet, in a different solar system with Aphex Twin's grinning face where the sun should be. And maybe, therefore, we need our own Music Prize that respects a wickedly neglected genre.