Listen to a low-key introduction from THE DEATH AND THE DEAD and get prepared for a story to shake up all your preconceptions concerning the fabulous 1970s
Confined to bed after my fainting fit in the cottage garden, I devoured books from the town library and spent hour after brightly coloured hour tuned into the radio in a prescripted valium haze listening to bands like King Crimson and Moody Blues. Electronic sound engulfed me during those times. Blu-tacked pictures of rock-stars on my walls stared out iconically. One singer looked like an Aryan Jesus and, influenced by my father’s disgust of all things religious, I tore his image down and emoted instead over the more down-to-earth posters given away each week in Sounds. American comic books, Pan horror stories, a book about Buddhism, Edgar Allen Poe’s works, all these deranged my thoughts even further, so that when at last the doctors declared me fit for a return to the humdrum world my whole consciousness had been altered.
Instead of a schoolboy desire to master logarithms and find out about the harshness of the tundra climate or which king killed who what why when or where, I simply have to discover the best place to buy a faded denim jacket and a pair of two-tone velvet loon pants. I need to get out there. I need to live. I want to be ferocious, hit things, make a racket. Be a drummer. I have decided to be a freak like the people I read about in the music papers during the day and listen to in the evening and watch at night on TV when no one is around. No longer do I want to be another brick in the wall. I want to be on the road, taking drugs and drinking gallon after gallon of strong hooch: some kind of drug-taking, drink-swilling, long-haired musician or maybe writer or something – a fiend, still undefined and embryonic, but definitely out there in front of me as a goal.
The Seventies were out there waiting for me..! And I was gonna help make them happen..!
DEATH AND THE DEAD
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